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HiotDgraphic 

Sciences 

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33  WIST  MAfN  STRUT 

WIBSTIR.N.Y.  M9S0 

(716)  8/3-4503 


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THE  COMPLETE  HOME: 


AN 


taaoPiEDU  OF  DoMSTic  Life  m  Affm 


T  \  -  rrrnir^n  -r  \m 


THE    HO     3EHOLD. 


IN  ITS 


ronndatloi..  Order    Economy,  Beanty,  II«.alihft,Inc8«,  Rmertreneles. 

nietbodii,  CtalKlrcn,  Htcratnrc.  Amusomonts,  ReUglonT 

FricndshtpH,  Ittannera,  Hospitality,  Servants, 

Industry,  Sloucy,  and  Uistory. 


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%mmt  of  limtical  %mnm  lophrls  |Itorat4 


BY 


MRS.  JULIA  McNAIR  WRIGHl'. 


-Oforluimi*,  Oka^pyday, 

WHin  a  nnv  household  taket  itt  Urik, 
And  rolls  on  its  harmonious  way 
Among  tht  myriiiJ  homtt  q/  tarik," 

— LoMcrauOw. 

BRADLEY,  GAUllETSON  &  CO., 

CO  NOllTH  FOUUTir  STUKET,  I'lllLADKU'UIA: 

HI!ANTFOR0,  ONT. 

WILLIAM  (JARUETSON  &  CO., 
OOLUMnus,  o.;  ciiKAao,  im.s.;  nashvim,e,tenn.{ 

»T.  LOUIS,  MO.;  HAN  KUANCISCO,  CAL. 


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Copyrijjht,  by  JvuA  McNair  Wright,  1879. 


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PREFACE. 


^ 


jETWEEN  the  Home  set  up  in  Eden,  and  the  Home  before  us 
^      n  Eternuy,  stand  the  Homes  of  Earth  in  a  long  succeJsTon 

young  „.„  rear  ,o  marry,  and  \y  undue  cl:  on  'Tp  rive  '  !„:  X 
01  ll,e  joys  and  safeguards  of  domestic  life?    vrll   7  '„°™™ 

not  know  all  that  it  is  needful  to  Wn^!  »  ,         ^°""^  I"''"" 

integrity    that  it  mU Ml  ''"o^^  »"  secure  their  Home  in  its 

may  know  hi    o^        ^?P^'  "^^"^'^  '"^"^^   •^'^^^'i'""'.   that   they 

s ;  d  mTne';;^  rj:z  "'''  r^'",^'*'^^^"'  "^^^^'  --  -»' 

these  quest  ons      Eve'"  ch     "'"  '^f./"'  ^°°''  '"^>"^^'P  '^"^^^ 
trou..^  wellTet,  we^o:!  s^X^   wl    -^l^^  ^^^"^'^  ^"''  ^^ 
"  By  stepping  stones 
Of  our  (leid  selves,  to  higher  fhinp." 

How  then  shall  the  Home  fuinilthe  great  duty  lying  before  it     th. 
duty  of  restoring  confidence  and  energy,  of 'e r:Zt;:g  evito; 

(3) 


9~*- 


4  '  PREFACE. 

bringing  much  out  of  little,  and  affording  to  every  Family  in  the 
land  an  assumed  competence  ?  The  answer  |o  these  questions,  the 
indication  of  the  means  of  reaching  an  end  so  grand,  will  take  hold 
on  Moral  Principles  and  \}c^€ix  practical  out-working. 

This  Book— the  product  of  years  of  careful  investigation,  of  actual 
experiences,  and  of  a  profound  veneration  for  the  Divinely  instituted 
Home— undertakes  to  show  how  every  sound  man  and  woman  m.-v 
safely  marry,  how  every  family  may  have  a  competence,,  how  every 
home  may  go  on  from  good  to  better,  and  how  each  household  may 
be  not  only  gladsome  in  itself,  but  a  spring  of  strength  and  safety  to 
the  country  at  large. 

This  book  treats  of  the  individual  as  set  in  Households :  it  regards 
the  household  as  a  unit  in  its  affections,  aims,  success.  The  rights, 
duties,  privileges,  preferences  of  every  member  of  the  family  are  dis- 
cussed. The  Home  itself,  in  its  practical  working,  its  food,  clothing 
and  shelter,  its  earnings,  savings  and  spend ings,  its  amusements, 
industries  and  culture,  will  be  found  faithfully  portrayed. 

There  is  no  thought  more  beautiful  and  far-reaching  than  this  of 
the  solidarity  or  oneness  of  the  Family;  here,  man  is  indissolubly 
bound  to  his  fellows.  The  individual  is  solitary,  but  God  setteth  the 
solitary  va  families.  The  stream  of  time  is  crowded  with  the  ships  of 
Households,  parents  and  children,  youth  and  infancy,  age  with  its 
memories,  childhood  with  its  fancies,  youth  with  its  loves,  maturity 
with  its  cares.  A  beautiful  picture  represents  such  a  life-scene.  The 
Household  bgund  for  the  same  eternity,  trying  the  same  fates. 

"  In  Cmi-niiooD's  hour,  with  careless  joy 
Upon  the  stream  we  glide, 
With  Youth's  bright  hopes,  we  gayly  speed, 
To  reach  the  other  side.  ^ 

"  Manhood  looks  forth  with  careful  eye, 
Time  steady  plies  the  oar; 
While  Oi.D  A(;i'-  calmly  waits  to  hear 
The  keel  upon  the  shor»," 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

-What  is  this  capital  ?-TI,e  rockoZVu'Z"''''  "'''''''  ^"""^h  to marryf 
»  the  Corner.Stone  of  lIomeT-Te  ' 2  ''^  ""7 '°""''^'-- 
happy- When  young  persons  should  re  1  ^  •^'^-'^''h  ,„  „,ake  a  Home 
"o.ne  from  wi,ho„C  Lman  A  n  ti  ^'^i  "l^-'  "'»^-,-M.„  huild,  hi. 
requ.suc  ,0  a  .safe  engagen,cnt-Lonr  TT  """-"  '^"""■'•-"''«<=  "f  character 
m,.or,a„tthana,rolta„.-AL"i  '"'  -^'^fi'^-enU-What  is  mor,! 

..c  NO  OKHTS-The  necessity  ofsnetc7f„^'■^^°"  7'^"  '"^^"'-^-'  "- 
""I«"-'--'"^e    of  a    thorough  know  edt      ^^^      '"''''""«  "^  livclihood-Th,- 

fine  ar,-Eco„on,y-.Miea„,„_,,  f:;^^!,^  r""°"  """-k-l"n«  « 
r''"'^'^'r'''""'=  "^  '^--"S  H  o  e~  :T"'  '"  self-dcnial-HeU. 
houso.„KUher_Kxceliencc  of  cuhurLN  "d  of  1   """'''   ^"^'   '^'-J'""'"' 

Ho,ne  .,ur  Treasure  House-Are  tw    her  ^"°''  ""'P"  "'  ""■■  "-">«- 

Jcc-Cou„,  ,ho  cost-M.ke  no    e  p  i  T  .""'^ '-"-"'"^  "'^  ^"'"^  '"  'he 

Two  weddin,.-A  Benediction  on  U,e  Home  :.:!'.  ;^'="-''-"--l  ^^ride- 

^Vhe„  .0  study  m.;sio  or  1  ,-1 'l';;;:  J:-^'^^'''''"  ""'^  "^-''^  '-'/- 
cvcry,hing-A  wedding  gif.-TirZ  »'"<''— "ow  to  have  time  for 

-  to  manage  workilfelen',  L'e "t       '""'"^•''-^-^^-K^s  of  Disorder- 
"-r.e  for  <Iisorder?-How  a  y  ,2  1  o.r'"^'"'"'-'^  '"'^'^^■^'  ^  "'•-'  '" 
h.nts  on  <Iress-A  word  on  ^^TZ^TV"'''  "^  «-k-In,.o„ant 
offending  dothes  ,o  the  wash-W    n  To        TT"^  -"-A  new  n.ethod 
-Md    cmhroidery-A    disorderly    ho^t  e "    ^  a     ",""^~""^^ '" --"'-^ 

i"--"t  si„ing.room-A  window^  d^r^^;^  ^'-^'^  [^  eve,^.hing-A 
yung  woman  can  best  economic,  in  he  i^n  "'"vr''"'"'--''  ^i'chen-How  a 
work-When  to  .lo  the  fall  and  ,  n  ^"''"'"-"'"^  '»  B^t  tin.e  for  charity 
n  individuals-Order  in  a  f  .  .^  irr^T^'-  "---eleaning-Orde; 
^ct,,ergenc^,-Cousi„  Ann's  m^L  i!^!;!  ^^-'-^'^-''-Parodnes, 
*'•  ''"="'K-'^  place  for  everythin.r     Th„       '"  ;'  '"^•-'^■=:woik-A  time  for 

w 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER     III. 
Economy-Thf,  Pounds  and  PENCE-Ashamed  of  economy-How  shall  we  begin 
to  economize  ?-Reclucing   a    servant's  wages-Economy   and    charity-The 
seamstress'  view  of  ha,,!  lin>es-How  worl<iMg.people  should  meet  hard  times- 
VVhere  people  begm  their  ccmomies-Servan-.s  and  employers-Needful  rise 
and  fall  m  wages-Kit  expenses  to  your  station  in  l.fe-Uon't  blush  at  wearing 
CALlco-What  constitutes  a  lauy?_K,gh.s  of  masters  and  employes-How  to 
meet  a  reduced  income-The  real  cost  of  a  new  silk  dress-Need  and  pride- 
Pr.de  a  hard   mas.er-Little  savings  an.l   little   wa  ting -Losing  a  hundred 
one-dollar  l>,lls_Payi„g  for  breakages- What  servants  have  no  right  to  expect 
-Makmg-over   dresses-Making-over   neck-ties-To   clean  silk,  velvet,  and 
mertno-Economizing  on  the  table-A  soup  relish-Cheese   and    parsley- 
Ashamed  of  eccomy  or  ashamed  of  extravagance-Making  the  best  of  what 
we  have  on  hand-Aimless  savings-What  to  do  with  old  clothes-Ten  dollars 
worth  of  clothes  for  one  dollar-"  Jumping  in  a  bucket  "-A  genius  for  House-' 
keepn,g-A  mother's    meeting-C.lARlTY  PAYS-Koreign    economy-Ameri- 
cans  are  extravagant-Why  P-Exlravagance  in  coffee-makbig-Kich  French- 
men  and  poor  Americans-Foreign   Housekeeping-Saving  in   fuel-Buying 
in  httles-Keeping  meats  and  vegetables  sweet-Manner  of  keeping  milk  and 
butter  cool-Neatness  m  pantries-A  home-made  refrigerator-Charcoal   cold 
water,  and  a  bit  of  netting-Ammonia  and  plaster  of  Paris-A  useful  presen^- 

Economy  honorable ,  „, 

S"-oo 

CHAPTER    IV. 
Children-Their  RrcHTS  and  LtAn.L.TiEs-Position  of  children  in  a  Home- 
Vanety  m  .raini.,g-Mis,akes  of   goo.i    ,^ople-When  (o  begin  training- 
Uhat  IS  a  chdd's  first  lesson  ?-Teach  a  child  patience-How  to  teach  children 
to  cry  softly-Noiso-Quict   needful   to  young  ch.ldren-Causes  of  summer 
diseases-Dangers  in  nurse-maids-How  chddren  are  treated  by  maids-Dan- 
gers  of  baby-cnrts-What  t„  require  in  a  nurse-maid-Don't  burden  your  little 
tlaughtcr-An  over-worked  child-What  every  mother  shouhl  do  for  her  own 
ch.  d-Care  of  a  babe's  food-Frightening  children-How  to  treat  terror  in  a 
ch.Id-Engbsh  nurses-Teaching  children  engaging  manners-Teach  the  child 
to  be  generous-Errorr.  and  crimes-Obe<lience-Truth-Generosily_Re,pect 
for  authority-Early  goo.l  habits-Common-sense-Worth  of  the  will-Rules 
and  nghts-Va.iely  in  penalty-Accidents-Teaching  a  boy  to  raise  a  dmncr- 
Clean    speech-Truthfulncss-Teasing-Firmness-A    root    of   dishonesty- 
"Mother!   can't  I  go  fishing?  "-Teasing  Anna-Care  of  a  child's  hair- 
Developmg  a  child's  beauty-A  handsome  family-Elements  of  beauty-Clothe 
children  plandy-Answering  chihlren's  questions-Encouraging  a  love  of  natu- 
ral history-Mothers  must  read-Destructiveness  and  constructiveness-Ohe.li- 

ence — Plato „ 

87-117 

CHAPTER   V. 

Sickness  AND  \V,ckedness-A  grain  of  sense-Where  diseases  ri.e-Our  bodies 

•hould  be  cherished— Too  much  and  tn,-.  litil»  „>„.c:^„i   ,..1.. -,.._  , 

,,,,,.,,  — -   .-......^...    .„..,„^ — 1  lie  care  of 

Household  health  woman's  work-Why  Mrs.  Black's  family  were  ill-Use  of 


fl' 


CONTENTS. 


Vtt 


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flannel  -Thick  shoes— Loose  cIothes-Exercise-Sun<=},inp     Ac      .,   . 
and  a  healthful  bed-room-Beauty  and  heal  h     ThA        !         ''."\'^^''-'«'"' 
keeoer— Care  nf  ih„  „       ,     .         7  ,  "^'*'"^— ^he  housekeeper  is  the  health- 
Keeper     Care  of  the  garret-tare  of  the  cellar-Cellar  and  parlor-Drains- 

-For^  'ff.i         V  ''  '"  •-'PPle-IIave  a  sick-room  note-book- Variety 
--Jorget   nothmg_\eatness_A  beautiful   dish-A  Salad     S.l  .1    1 
Sandwiches— Tea  relish— Best  w.„     r         .  ^a'a"— Saiad  dressing- 
gift  of  God !.    .      ..               ^  °f  ^o»^""g  meat_Sleeplessne..s_S!eep  3 

118-149 

CHAPTER  VI. 

''"ILe  Tear'"'""''"^"  "'^  ^^^"^  °'  "°--mat  finishes  .he  wall-Good 

ChaTdea     m     V     "        "  """  n-luctive-Fertility  of  Palestine-E  Jt_ 
Chaldea-VVhy   Cousm,    Ann's  boys   love   the   farm-Youth  craves  blauSr 
Beauty  ,s  c  eap-A  good  sta,.  in  life-II„w  children  can  crea  elW  b,    ~ 

vT  I-  re?t    T;::'  r  ^^■"'""^  „"  "'"'^-"-  ^  ^-e  increased  mo 
value-He  ter  a  housekeeper-How  a  poor  girl  made  her  Home  beautiful 

w'l.   i.  •  jr  1  .  ■"' "v.iuiy      I  tincy  napkins — An  ui'lvnarlnr— 

hat  .s  needful  to  a  beautiful  room-Reau.y  and  cyesiU-Care  of  the  eyes 

How  to  escape  colds-Preventing  croup-I.ofuness  of  f.enu.y-Prime  e  JmcnT. 
of  heauty-How  ,0  buy  furniture  and  caipets-Make  comfort  an     m-C  ^e  Jf 

urniture-G.ve  children  low  seats-Do  not  crowd  furnltur  -  "t  u,  he  1 
t:Vl^L  'TTl:'^^  -".-Servants'  rooms-Visiting  IL  ^^l 
,.      '"'"  .  ""  ; "  «-i"aow— The  power  of  beauty— An  eleeaiit  screen 

^oi":  .?..!'::::!"::'••:  "^-'^^^^-^  ^""^"'  baske.-,c  dXr 

iSo-'TO 


viii 


COX77:X7.X 


CHAPTER  VII. 
Industry  m  the  Home-BocIcs-A  call  from  Miss  Black-Finding  somethins 
to  do-PeopIe  and  their  work-Work  a  duty_A  maiden  lady  of  means  find. 
work-Wliat  Miss  Black  does-Helping  servants-What  ought  girls  to  do  ?- 
Housework  should  be  learned-Are  you  making  Home  happy  ?_Duty  of  parenf 
to  tram  children  to  industry— Home  a  centre  of  activity-A  family  well  trained 
—A  habit,  and  an  object- Well-directed  industry-Making  industry  pay— We 
should  study  our  children-Working  for  the  future-Give  children  a  shire  in 
work  and  profit-Boys'  help  in  the  house-A  nice  pair  of  lads-Work  not  an 
end-What  is  the  end  ?-How  work  injures-Fierce  work- Work  of  pridel- 
Work  for  the  lazy-Fretting  over  work-Unsystemntic  work-Killed  by  fu>cs_ 
Rest  m  the  evening-Evening  work-Sabbath  rest-Holiday  rest-Rest  in 
change  of  work-Disease  from  indolence- Vigor  rises  from  labor-saving  and 
earnmg-Escapmg  doctors'  bills-Hire  your  seamstress-Getting  a  summer 
seamstress— Two  little  children  at  work-Mischievous  children-Work  for  a 

*'"m  jTr'^r'*''"^  ''°^'  *  trade-Every  girl's  traile-Success  from  diligence 

—Model  family  fa      " 

I7«-I9i 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Literature  ,n  the  Home-How  to  improve  a  Home-Homes  and  books- 
Value  of  newspapers-A  farmer's  opinion  of  papers-An  evening  scene-On 
a  stock-farm-Brought  up  on  books-A  favorite  book-Scrap-books-Begin  at 
he  beginning-Train  for  the  future-An  age  of  books-Hugh  Miller's  first 
hbrary-Dickens'  first  library-Child's  books-Sabbath  books-How  children 
«re  taught  to  love  the  Bible-Pilgrims'  Progress-How  to  lead  children  on  in 
literature-Cultivating  a  love  of  science-Whnt  to  read-We  must  and  will 
m'i  f^r^'''^"P''^~'^""'''^-^^l'''^"''°"^~I'°^"7-When     to    read 

Milton  and  Shakespeare-Essays-Scien.ific  reading-When  to  read  novels- 
What  novels-The  most  valuable  book-Reading  in  the  line  of  our  work- 
^hat  lawyers,  doctors,  and  farmers  should  read-Fred's  four  scrap-books- 
AVhat  1  homas  and  Belinda  thorght-A  letter  on  what  not  to  read-Good  and 
ev  1  of   he  press- We  never  forget-Books  form  our  habits  of  thought-Do 
not  read  what  lessen,  strength,  or  robs  of  earnestness  or  reverence-Do  not 
read  secular  books  on  Sabbalh-Do  not  rea.l  what  you  desire  to  hide-Do  not 
TrW      r      f"""    "^"''"^"y-When   to    read-Saving   moments-Books   in 
parlors_Rea<ling  saves  from   dissipation-Systematic  reading-Mornin<x  and 
evening  reading-What  to  do  Saturday  evening-Reading  and  kitchen  w^rk- 
Ihe  benefit  of  a  Literary  Society-How  to  read-Rules  for  reading-Learn 
mV'u    TiT  '^""^^'^-^'"'•ywhat  you  read-Don'tbediscouraged- 
Vhat    Hugh    Miller  says-Dr.  Guthrie's   opinions-The   morals  of  the  Ice 
landers-Studious    working   people-Welsh    workers-Seneca's    ren,arks   on 
e.Inca,ion-Choo,ing  books  for  children-We  must  crowd  out  evil  readi  gl 
rook.'.'."''.      ..;"'-'  ""''°"'  books-Lay  up  a  book  fund-A  Home  without 

•  •      • -.192-216 

CHAPTER  IX. 

— •"'i'"'  ""  pr^cnce  of  mind— Value  of  this  quality— lu 


„ 


CONTENTS. 

elements-Instilling  children  with  courage-Boys   and  bugs-Belinda  at  a 
weddmg_A  mortifying  act-A  little  girl's  presence  of  mind-Fred  and  the 
T^      u'.'.'^  "''  ""'"  '°  ="='-^^'^-Culting  a  blood-vessel-Screaming  murder 
-The  chdd  m  the  well-Martha's  wisdom-Mentor's  advice  to  Telemaque- 
A   finger  cut  off-A  burnt  arm-A  remedy  for  burns-Accidents   by   fire- 
Careless  use  of  l<erosene-Or  powder-A  lesson-Care  of  lamps-Of  fire.- 
Or  ashes-K.ndling-wood  left  on  the  stove-Clothes  drying-Dange,s  of  hot 
ashes-Peter  Stuyvesant's  fiie-law-Carelessness  with  matches-Insurance  does 
not  cover  loss-Fighting  fire-Danger  from  falls-Glass  or  cinder  in  the  eye 
-A    dog.b,te-Sunstroke-A   mad    dog-Fear  of  horses-Child   on   fire-A 
child  chokmg-Choking  on   thimbles-Dye  in  cloth-Antidotes  for  poison- 
Screaramg  and  incapacity-xXever  frighten  a  child-Careless  nurse..  .217-237 
CHAPTER    X. 
Religion  ,n  the  FAMii.v-He  did  not  believe  in  religion-Morals  and  religion 
-The  state  and  religion-The  .Sabbath  <iuestion-Religion  the  basis  of  laws- 
Sanctuy  of  the  family-Family  founded  on  the  Bible-How  the  Bible  approves 
us  or,g.n-The  family  and  the  state-Religion  and  crime-Piety  and  pauperism 
-Rel,g.on    and    mdependence-A    family    anniversary-Home-buildin-r   for 
etern>ty-Every-day   religion-Why   cultivate  family  piety-The  con,fort  of 
reI.g.on-lhe  finest  inheritance-Religion  in  Cousin  Ann's  Hon.e-A  Sabbath 
well  spent-Fr-mily  worship-No  unkind  criticisms-An  irreligious  family- 
Helen  s  S.-ibbath  instructions-Bunyan's  Mr.  Talkative-A  church-going  habit 
-Rehg,on  while  travelling-Citizenship  in  Heaven-Danger  of  late  hour>^ 

Parental  v.gilance-The  family  guide-book-A  word  from  Plato 23»-26l 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Hospitality  in  the  Home-A  garden  of  roses-The  queen  of  social  virtues 
Variefes  in  hospitality-Ostentatious  hospitality-Spasmodic-Nervous-Mra 
Snialey's  hospitalitv-Common-sense  hospitality-Hospitality  without  apology 
-B.bhcal  hospilality-Sclfi.h  hospitality-Excessive  hospitality-Elegant  hos 
p.tal.ty-The  right  kind  of  lu,spitality-A  sewing  society  discussion-Whnt 
our  minister  said-Bible  instances-Plainness  in  hospitality-Manners  of 
guests-As  good  as  a  sermon-A  home  view  of  hospitality-A  guest-room- 
The  mother  s  room-Abuse  of  hospitality-Mountain  cabin-A  western  settler's 
Home-Good  Samaritan  decds-The  poor-A  remarkable  instance- Valu.able 
thoughts-Decrease  of  hospitality-Old-lime  manners-A  singular  incident- 
Choicest  form  of  rural  hospitality 262-282 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Friendships  in  the  HoMF.-Boys  in  the  street-Dangerous  playmates-A  child 
IS  a  social  animal-Responsibility  of  mothers-Gold,  silver,  and  brass  training 
-Bringing  Tom  to  order-Friends  are  a  necessity  of  our  n.->ture-A  young 
girl  s  companion-Our  minister's  sermon  on  friendship-Sympathy  in  opinio.^ 
-Dangers  of  evil  company- Youth  has  strange  grounds  of  choice-Safety  of 
brothers-Country  Homes-Entertain  your  son's  friends-Mrs.  Black's  .lespair- 
A  wicked  child— Mutual  aid— Aunt  Sophronia's  p.,rfv_Lir-.-!onp  fri-.r'  h-ns— 
Grounds  of  friendship- Women's  friendships-Men's  friendships-Friendship. 

or  men  and  women „ 

• 283-305 


CONTEN-TS. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
VAtUE  OF  Good  Manners-How  to  learn  good  manners-Books  on  etJquett, 
-Cash  value  of  elegant  manners- What  Emerson  says-Train  earlv  i7^!!? 
rrVti'l^  '^''^'  -nners-ManlinessofgoJd  man^rs-I   wS 
teach  7h^,r  '"  <=— =^"— ^in'iness  creates  cour.esy-Ho.v  to 
teach  children  good  manners-Dr.  Guthrie  on  manners-French   mannel^ 
Manners   to  our  servants-To  our  children-Life's  small   chanlTl^ 
yojang  man-Cousin  Ann's  rules-Virtue  of  reverence-Wl^Xhf-Ma 
ners  of  the  present  age-Saucy  literature-Why  we  exalt  the  nasf-A  .Za 

^ai:°c,;:,r"'"T''^"""^  "  -als-EarmLuse  tablel-S  "L^S 
meals-Ch.klren  and  company-Shy  children-Forward  children-Cultiva" 
ch,ldren  s  manners-Old-fashioned  courtesies-Politeness  to  mothers-Wh S 
^o  do_Wa,.,ng  on  sisters-Be  sincere-Be  sympathetic-Be  self-forget  ,- 
Be  .houghtfd-CuUivate  conversation-Politeness  the  sum  of  littl  s-Hol^ 
deserves  good  manners-Be  pleasant  in  the  morning-Little  sins-Be  mod^" 
^IrTHot:':::^'  ^^"°°^  ^ind,y-Chesterheld.s  opinion- Ju^TS 

3ofr-33« 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

'''^7l::^j:nr^--  ^^^->^-^^^^^  over-wor^-Wh, 

and  u:;ie:re  t-wo;;:^  f:,;:sir"'r '"'1"^"^  -^"^  '--^'^-o™' 

-Needless  work-Hard  commoe~eTh  °'.'Snorance-Value  of  resting 
B^.nt  ways  of  doing  the  s^  ^^i^hXjS-^-^— 
How  to  get  supper-Knowing  how  to  do  it-Fear  of  seeming  lazy"^^ "^ 

rust — Cleanuiir   lin  ves Sh..Il=    f^,   „i       •  .         >-'"'"      lotieanon 

Why   we    have    brol.!    T  --"'--Wa.hnig-Babies  cross  on   Monday  !- 

recipes     ..^::..:':"-'°"'"    -°— Cleaning    lace     curtains-Excellent 

332-359 

CHAPTER    XV. 

extravagance  "-Heipmppt  a  I"^""  P'"^™'^  and  children-"  Women'i 
-Concealment  is  Hm'nalTh  "'"""  ^""'^^■^^'—^^  newspaper  par.ngraph 
Heavenward  "   "/''""""'-         "^^"'«8«  service-The  Doctor  in  ••  SteppiL 

An  Abo;::!;;::  -^^^^^-^^^^^^^  a„d  daughters-m',  aw- 
Attention   T  h    old  and  at   .  '     "  ->°-?-Paying  family  debts- 

Excellent  .estiLy^-DaleTo.  7:^^  ^^mily-A  ste,mother-. 
>       -  {._rt._iu_,_,,iaiiien  aunts— Wiuiuci's  maider 


1  :* 


CONTENTS.  I 

aunt-A  step-mother's  position-Her  <luty-Hcr  rights-Her  disadvantages- 
Love  and  duly-False  accusations-My  cousin's  slep-mother-A  motherle.s. 
fam.ly-A  s.lly  prejudice-Children's  manners  to  each  otIier-Unjust  char-^es 
-Quarrels-Miriam's  children  settling  a  family  dispute-A  loving  family- 
Keepjng  b.rth-days-Yearly  holidays-Thanksgiving  day-Jean  IngeloWs 
thought-Scr,ptural  view-Responsibilities  of  parents-Law  of  rebound- 
Weddmg  days-A  thirtieth  anniversary_A  fine  farm-Which  is  dearer,  child 

or  grandchild  ? 

360-384 

CHAPTER  XVL 

The  Use  and  Abuse  of  Money  in    t.,e   IIoME-An  argument  between  tw» 
boys-Aunt  Sophronia's  decision-Money  a  means,  not  an  end-The  miser's 
love-Unlawful  love  of  money-Evils  caused  by  money-loving-Right  love  of 
money-The  good  of  money-All  toil  means  money-Affectation  of  disdaining 
money-V.rtue  and  poverty-Crime   and  poverty-Extravagance  among  the 
poor-Agur  s  prayer-A  man  not  poor-Three  great  precepts-Cicero's  precept 
-Joubert  s  precept-Lord  Bacon's  precept-The  Home's  money  basis-Tlie 
comfortable   positiou   for   the    Home-Economy   a    revenue-Economy    and 
meanness-L.ttle  savings-Two  young  housewives-Rules  for  getting  rich- 
What  ,s  .t  to  be  rich  ?-What  Astor  got  for  his  wealth-Four  rules  for  money 
makmg-Wh.ch  .s  the  hardest  ?-Betsy  Rourke's  riches-Economy  in  poverty- 
What  a  cook  la.d  up-Worth  trying-When  not  to  save-A  field    for   self- 
demal-Settmg  out   in  life-Begin  moderately-Living  beyond  our  means- 
What  IS  extravagance  ?_A  portrait  of  extravagance-Know  your  income- 
Mark    expenses-Keep   accounts-Washington   and   Wellington   as   account- 
keepers-How  to  keep  accounts-Value  of  persistency-Disastrous  changes- 
A  farmers  w.fe-Slow  and  safe-A  family  experience-Debts  shorten  life- 
Poverty   ,s  only  relative-Making  haste  to  be  rich-Avoid  illiberality-A  hard 
bargain   ,s  a  bad  bargain  for  the  proposer-No  mortgage  on  the  farm-Give 
the  chddren  'oys-Don^t  begrudge  Aowers-Too  much  money  given  children 
-False  Ideas-Worth  of  earned  money-Monitions  given  to  a  boy.  .  .3S5-409 

CHAPTER  XVIL 
Attention  to  DRESS-Belinda  and  her  new  gown-Do  we  think  too  much  about 
dress  ?-The  duty  of  thinking  about  dress-Authorities  on  dress-Certain  odd 
fashions-Belinda's  views-Paul's  precepts-Dressing  the  hair-Hearing  a 
sermon-How  we  think  too  much  of  dress-Selfishness  in  dress-Th,  dressy 
daughter-Reason  and  common-sense  in  dre.-.s-Vast  importance  of  dress- 
Dress  as  it  regards  health,  honesty.  charity_We  must  think  about  dress- - 
Fashion  tried  by  laws  of  common-sense-Ear-rings-Beauty  of  the  ear- 
Fruzes-The  human  head-How  to  care  for  the  hair-How  to  dress  it-The 
hair  in  Its  Home  appearance-Oriental  and  western  fashions-IIigh-heeled 
boots-Their  dangers-Affecting  the  spine-Injury  to  the  eyes-Insanity- 
Chmese  and  American  absurdities-The  mania  for  compression-The  waist 
-Evil  effects  of  fght-lacng  on  the  appearance-Artists  and  the  natural  figure 
-Hindering  a  figure-Long  trains-Modestv  and  immodesty  i^  dr-.--''^'^!"- 
ing  dresses-Great  underlying  principles-Dress  as  it  adds  to  Home  com'forf 
-Carelessness  ,n  dressing  children   in  winter_An  extravagant  woman-An 


•» 


t  ll 


t    i! 


*"  CONTENTS. 

untidy  woman-Drcs.  and  h.  -h-Under.fl.^nels-Care  of  the  feet-Cove, 
he  head-L.gh,ness  in  d..s  >shions  U.  child,.en-Q„es,ions  in  buji" 
men  r^'".'  7"  hones.y-iie,,,,,.  f,„e  dress-Train  chil.lren  ,o  h.,nest  jud- 
menu  about  dress-Sumptuary  laws-Curious  laws  on  drc,s-13eauty  ..h- 
Use  tn   dress-Husbands,  lovers   and   sons-Few   clothes,  but  ,ood  one  - 

and  fa,     oiks- Dress  for  small  companies-For  children's  parties-For  church 
-Du.ble  goods_Fiowers  as   ornaments-Kibbons-Jcwilry-Too  sple:,-, 

4'0-4jS 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
MISTRESSES  AND  SERVANTS  -  Importance   of  a  servant's  position-The   Home 
reaches   beyond   itself-Inefficient    servants-Creating   paupers-Positive  aTd 
negat.ve  losses-/,,  a  family  and  not  </ it-The  IIomItie\or  ser^r-liT 

FrZe„"tT"""r'~''"'  ""''''•'  •="?--'— ^^'-  S^Phronia's  opinion- 
Frequent  change  of  servants-Trusting  our  servants-Cultivating  tru'tworthi- 
ness-A  model  mtstress-Good  rulcs-An  old  proverl>-A  servam  in  distress 
-A  httle  love-story-Permit  no  negligence-No  disobcdience-Allowh.g  visi- 
tors-  .  fo. lowers  "-Need  of  adviee-UnJustly  particular-The  servant  ."s 
i;::  m"        t  ^'''""r:-''   -eans.Abrutal  maid-A  generous  n,;i<;!: 
Sevant^    .nstruct.on-fhcr  rooms-A  grateful  servant-Politeness-See  that 
cluldren    treat    servants    Idndly-lvtchen    conveniences-Good  example  and 
goo    adv,ce-A  thrifty  woman-M,  .ding  household  linen-Be  ruled  i    p  in 
cpe-Encouragement-Incentivc-Praise-Warnings-Good    mistress,  good 
ma,d-Dangers  of  housekeepers'  ig„orance-A  fashion  of  complain.-Keeting 
.00  many  scrvants-A  new  way  of  increasing  efficiency-Decision-Car       f 
brooms-What  a  servant  may  be-My  s^vant-A  wise  servant-Iierl  bra. 
-Manha  contrtves  a  filter-How  to  save  sugar-Caring  for  servants'  c  mZ 
-Three  maiden  ladies-A  widely  extended  charity ^.^^"^ 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  Young  Man  who  Expects  to  Marrv-A  deep  question-The  secret  of  Home 

happ„,ess-Conseientiousness-A  surprise  party-The  subject  of     e    ven  nTl 

How  0  buy  furn.ture-I3uy  for  u,se-Kitchen  furniture-Choice  of  f    ,,   "L 

How  to  buy  a   carpet-Harmony  in  furnishing-How  to  study  e^t  c  "  V 

comphment  to  a  lady-How  to  make  furniture-How  to  m.^V    a  cha,      "\ 

taWe     Ason,_Window.curtains-Shades-Divans-How  to  mak^  ^  t;;;::^ 

-A   todette   table-A   lounge-How   to   make   a   paper-ca-     r      •      >      u 

a«t  or-s  view-How  to  n.ain.ain  the  happy  n^.-2^i;t:.L:.-^l 

destroy  a   Home-How  to   discourage  a  man-How  really  happy  chikTre" 

iZty  \  ""'^  °'  '"'^">'""«  "—Courtesy  in  the'  hapTJ  H  m^- 
Punctaahty_A  punctual  housewife-Dinner  to  the  minute-Keep  calmTem 
pers  Have  enough  to  ea,-A  proper  family-.able-Where  we  wa^te  and  Z. 
--.row  NOT  to  coo  beef-How  to  use  cold  meat-Cheap  varieties  o^  foodl 
-M  m  ho-,sel<eepn,g-How  to  make  a  luncheon-Need  of  lunch- V 
r..  ..a  mea..-  ..  late  supper-How  to  give  a  small  dinner-party-How  to  ,e 
:X  .t. /":,'!,  r"^'  ""  ''"-^£~"'"-'ri.e  two  chief  elements  of  a 
.„..,..,,,.., v_S,!,d  for  ;    .  ..How  to  cook  po,ato«-Nuts  and  salt-Calm 


IIJ.I.(,,..JIJ,.l!.U.. 


CONTENTS.  jj.jj 

Bess-Exse-No  haste-Dinners  without  wines-Calculalion-A  model  house- 
wife-IIouse-plauts-Causes  and  treatment  of  their  diseases-How  to  keep  air 
mo.st-Care  of  frosted  plants-Let  children  share  their  cultival„,n-Music  in 

>i     nT""'^,""'"""^  *'°"''-^^'''^'  '»  fc"-"''   r«-afIing-Thc  art  of  telling  a  st„ry 

well— Ide-telling  at  meals ^,       J 

46o-4tsj 

CHAPTLR  XX. 
Ancient  an,,  Medieval  IIom,:s-A  Christmas  week-Christmas  the  Home 
feast- 1  he  first  form  of  the  Home-f'atriarchal  life-Servanls-The  encamp, 
ment-  I  heir  occupalions-I)iver>i<.ns-Music-Drcss-Jewels-Food-Prin- 
cesses  as  cooks-Hospitality -The  Classic  Home-Description  of  Roman 
house-  Fou  ,„ai  ns  _  Draperies  -  Healing  _  Ventilating  -  Draining-Ancient 
family  worship- I5ooks-Slaves_Dress-A  Roman  dinner-The  Roman 
table-Cooking  utensils-Family  life-Holiday  amusements-The  succesv  ^s  of 
Roman  civilization-The  Celt  and  his  Home-Character  of  the  Cells-  heir 
places  of  worship-Beehive  huts-Celtic  cookery-How  they  buried  -heir 
dead-Saxons  and  their  Homes-A  Saxon  tomb-Sources  of  information- 
The  Jewsas  architects-Saxon  houses-Tlili  noAun-Fuel-Larder-Lighls- 
TMrs- Saxon  babies-  Occupations-Amusements-Education-Guest^ 
Marriage  relations-Our  names  for  food -Bed-rooms-Parlors-Nauch-v 
dames-Clothes  as  heirlooms-Early  English  furniture-Western  cabins- 
Indian  wigwam. . . 

■    •  4S4-5 « I 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Model  HOME-Plato's  letter-The  sanctity  of  marriage-Immortality  of  the  Home 
-Its  divine  origin-Bishop  of  Winchester  on  marriage-Building  a  house- 
General  principles-Position-Frame  work-Place  forbed-rooms  and  kitchen- 
Ch.mneys-Closets-Beware  of  fires-Cisterns  and  fillers-Open  fires-Furnaces 
-Color  of  walls-Paper-Color  in  furnishing-Decisive  hues-The  surroun.l- 
ings  of  a  Home-Rustic  furniture-Gardens-Convenient  houses-Use  of 
Homes-Famihes-Too  large  families-Home  comfort-Religion-Extension 
01  Home  influence— Home  blessinc 

''     5«2-53a 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Things  T„AT  all  should  KNOw-Soup-making  and  serving-Meats  and  their 
cooknig-Game-Fish- Frying  and  roasting- Vegetables- Cleaning  and 
cooking-Good  recipes  for-When  to  use-Wh-,  to  use-Made  dishes-Side 
d.shes-Two  hundred  ways  to  cook  an  egg-As  many  ways  of  cooking  a 
tomato-Cooking  for  chlldren-For  the  siek-Puddings-Cakes-Something  to 
p  ease  children-  How  to  make  candy-Desserts-How  to  clean  and  repair 
clothes  and  furniture-Cleaning  silk-Cloth-Furs-IIow  to  make  household 
Imen  last  long-How  to  sew-How  to  make  over  old  clothes- Very  needful 
recipes  for  brea.I,  yeast-Gruel-Tea  and  coffee-How  to  save-Poisons  and 
their  antidote-Fits  and  faiiiting-How  to  meet  accidents- Hysteria-Care  of 
children -Amusements  in  the  Home-Safe  games-Exercise-Gardening- 
Drmns  and  sewer,_C.re  and  cure  of  diphtheria-Gas  and  gas  poisoning- 
P^ambrng-Smokc-bouses-CcllaiTb-Manageraent-Economy 533-573 


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The  Complete  Home. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    FOUNDATION  OF  A   HOME. 

UR  AUNT  SOPHRONIA  lives  in  one  of  our  inland 
towns.  She  is  the  relative  of  many  of  the  townspeople 
—the  Oracle  of  all.  Firmly  intrenched  in  hv.T  own 
opinions,  and  more  th?n  usually  self-complacent,  she  is 
yet  ready  to  give  other  people  their  due ;  her  ideas  are  broad 
and  sound,  and  she  is  no  doubt  a  great  blessing  to  our  com- 
munity. An  indefatigable  diarist,  she  has  for  many  years 
recorded  the  best  of  what  she  thinks  and  learns  on  her  favorite 
theme— THE  home.  These  journals  being  too  voluminous,  and 
too  full  of  private  affairs,  to  present  bodily  to  the  public,  she  has 
at  out  earnest  solicitation  reproduced  part  of  them  topically, 
and  with  a  happy  facility  in  discussing  her  subject  from  the 
beginning. — J.  M.  N.  W. 


Aunt  Sophronia  discusses,  First — 

THE   CAPITAL   UPON   WHICH    TO    MARRY. 

It  will  be  a  long  day  before  I  call  myself  old,  simply  because 
I  don't  feel  old,  and  I  have  been  much  too  busy  in  my  life  to  have 

r;'-"'  — ' ,  •-"'  •••■  -   liiFw   ^niri,  \vriu  were  baocs  m  my 

arms  when  I  was  woman-grown,  are  women  now,  and  talking 

(11) 


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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


of  marr„„g_at  ioa,,l  the  two  elder  ones,     I  suppose  they  have 
been  e„,„s  „„,  „,„,  i  „„^  ^^^  ^^.„  ,     ^^  V      « 

ne,  as  .t  does  ,o  people  nVIin,  on  fas.  trains,  as  if  a„  .he  word 
w  re  „ov,„g  and  .hey  themselves  stationary.     The  three  girl 
ren,y.hree„,eee:  Miriam  I  brought  up;  Helen  was  broth 
"P  by  her  grandmother;  and  Hester  eame  up  as  she  chose 
her  mother,  my  sister,  died  when  the  ehild  was  ten    and  I, 
Koe,,eda,e,  Wr  .ther,  says,  he  •.  .hin.s  eve^  inJiwI^^ o  g^ 
.0  be  I  ft  to  develop  on  its  own  line,-     Of  all  things  1     ,f  /  ,  J 
n,a  ne     John  Kochodale,  as  once  seen.ed  lihely,  L.ead  of  my 
s.er,he  and  I  would  have  had  some  very  serious  difference! 
o    opm.o„,  .h,s  subject  of  ■■  developing  "  being  one  of  the  manv 
w  ereon  we  don't  agree,     I  an,  no.  particuLarly  sorry  t       i^ 
Men  mstead  of  me  who  becan.e  Mrs.  Roehedalc     not       !  r 

K  tlic  Lord  s  opinions  for  matrimony  come  i  Inn„  , 
before  Pauls  for  celibicv      T  .i     ■.  .1  •  ,     .  ^  ^^'*>''' 

-.-..  because^;:  ari::t::::::;i::r:r'^'-' 

havenotmarried  SI  ;::::;"''"■  ""  ™*"»  — • 

off  .ha„  .heir  mailed  sil:;  ""  "  ''"''"  "'  ■"='- 

-^c::i:i::iz:::i";r""'^'°"''»--^'''= 
.oba„d,wi.hou.„,a.„:i:r:i:::T„--™--n»biy 

w.™.ed  my  consent  to  his  J^J^^^iZ"  "'''  '"""'  ""  "= 
I  have  no  objections  .„  Mart,-,     If  ,  had,  ,  sho„,d  long  a^o 


THE  FOUNDATION  OF  A   HOME. 


13 


have  stopped  his  comingr.  I  don't  believe  in  putting  off  any 
duty  until  its  performance  is  useless.  I  told  Mark  that  they  had 
my  consent,  provided  they  were  not  in  too  great  haste  about  the 
marriage. 

"Pshaw!"  cried  the  impatient  Mark;  "nevermind  the  trous- 
ieau:  what  I  want  is  Miriam." 

I  replied:  "What  you  want,  Mark,  is  a  good  wife,  and  what 
Miriam  wants  is  a  good  husband.  The  step  you  two  contem- 
plate is  important,  especially  because  it  is  final:  if  you  make 
mistakes  now,  you  must  bear  their  burden  through  your  joint 
lives.  The  preparation  of  the  trousseau  is  the  last  thing  now  in 
my  mind :  I  should  be  sorr>'  to  have  Miriam  at  once  so  engrossed 
in  dress  and  fineries,  which  in  two  years  will  be  out  of  date,  and 
3n  twenty  quite  forgotten,  that  she  will  have  no  calm  time  for 
consideration,  and  to  prepare  herself  to  hco  and  solve  problems 
which  shall  be  of  the  last  importance,  not  only  to  herself,  but 
probably  to  many  others." 

I  had  some  simple  observations  to  make  to  my  Miriam  upon 
the  step  which  she  contemplated  taking,  and  I  concluded  that 
my  other  two  nieces  might  as  well  have  the  benefit  of  them,  so 
I  invited  them  to  tea. 

Hester  declined,  and  as  she  is  scarcely  sixteen,  I  reflected  that 
I  should  have  plenty  6f  time  to  advi.se  her  about  matrimony; 
however,  after  tea,  just  as  wc  had  adjourned  to  the  piazza,  over 
came  Hester.  As  usual,  her  .splendid  dark  hair  was  carelessly 
braided,  and  she  had  forgotten  her  necktie,  pin  and  gloves;  she 
fiwung  her  hat  by  the  strings,  her  gingham  dress  had  no  fit,  and 
her  shoes  were  too  large.  John  Rochcdale  has  a  theory  that 
the  physical  should  be  utterly  untrammelled  in  its  groAvth.  I 
don't  know  how  his  theory  will  turn  out  for  Hester's  health  and 
figure— at  present  she  looks  very  slovenly.  I  have  often  been 
vexed  at  the  meanness  of  her  attire.  Juhn  i.s  dreadfully  stingy 
except  in  the  matter  of  books  and  education.     He  tliinks  b,ain 


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7y/^  COMPLETE  HOME. 


"'=  centre  of  the  whole      The  '''  "'"'  "*"'*  »■■= 

"She,,.  Which  show  :::iz:r' =■  "■■«'"= ' =-  •-  -hta^ 

ta'oly  studies.     The  liblv  "  """""^'^  P^^^'-S  "■-■• 

-e  Pient,  of  boo.  h  I  at"  '"  T'"'  ^"^  '  "■'"''•  "- 
John  says,  "There.  noTJ  :r"°","'  '''°""  ""'  '^^"^  ''« 
''■tes.  The  oniy  sense  hH  .  "  '°  "=*'  '-*  -  ■*■= 
for  tutors.  "  '"  ""^  '''"""  '»  '»  S«  !■"  staid  old  n,en 

Well  up  came  Hester  just  as  we  were  seated      > 

.::t;tt\v;?„-:;---^:-Hrir:^ 

^\'"y,     says  she,   "Mrs „ 

•"eant  to  go  and  hear  her  when  of  J.r""^  '°  ''''"'■^'  ^"^  ^ 
^'-^  '-^  i.^-   "otu•on..n^s,sp,     :  J':         "'V''''^"'^^'^■^'^- 
;;WcIl.  isn't  he  right?"  ask-s  Helen. 
Certainly  not/'  returns    Hester   wfth 
I<nows  ho«-  to  lecture  she  h.s  T        T  "'"'""•      "^^  ^^e 

^•i-stion  .-,,  Can  she  U.:^'Z^  ^^'^  ^^^''^  ^  ^  --•     The 
•*^ho  thinks  of  her  them.      T  '  ''  "°  '^°'^'"^=^-^  '"  't  if 

P"^"c  when  I  grj;  rr:  lit  °^'^^^"^     ^-^^'^^  ^P-^  '" 
»''-  I  must  .speak."  ''^' ^"-^  '  ^^^^'^^'^ ''^e '"y  father,  and 

"What  folly! -says  Helen      "TI 
•-  '--re  is  to         '  M i".      "^'"^  J'""'"  --r  maro^.     Mir, 

take  Frank  Hand.'  ^°^"^'  ^"'  '  «'-"  -arry,  too;  m 

"How   long   before   you    will   rU 
Winan,  reprovingly.  ''''"^'  >°"'-  '"'"J?"    asked 

"J  won't  chance;  1  mu-t -t-.     u  ' 

~  '  ■       ''  ^'"^  '^''^^"S.     Grandmother  say. 


Tim  FOUNDATION  OF  A  HOME.  jg 

Ml  go  through  the  woods  and  pick  up  a  crooked  stick  at  last 
Suppose  I  don't  marry?  I  have  not  enough  to  live  on;  I  shall 
get  old.  ugly  and  crabbed,  and  have  nothing  to  do.  Yes,  I  must 
marry." 

"If  you  marry  on  such  grounds  as  those,  Helen,"  I  said,  "you 
will  find  your  lot  worse  than  to  be  single." 

"  I  thouglit  Mr.  Fitch  was  the  man,"  said  Hester. 

"O.  I  was  engaged  to  him  for  a  week,  and  I  wished  him  in 
the  bottom  of  the  Red  Sea  all  the  while,  so  I  broke  it  off  And 
then  there  was  Mr.  Merry:  I  couldn't  quite  make  up  my  mind 
to  take  hmi;  and  Tom  Green  I  got  tired  of  in  two  months." 

"I  should  think  you  would  be  ashamed  to  treat  people  .so 
heartlessly,"  said  Miriam. 

"I  should  think  you  would  be  ashamed  to  treat  yourself  so^" 
named  Hester.     "Do  you  think  your  affection  and  confidence 
arc  of  .so  small  value  as  to  be  conferred  and  taken  back  like 
penny  toys?     Have  you  no  respect  for  your  own  word,  or  your 
own  dignity?  or  are  you  just  an  animated  lay-figure,  with  reason 
and  honor  and  emotions  left  out  when  you  were  made?" 
"  You  speak  too  harshly  to  your  cousin,  Hester,"  I  said. 
"Well,  I  hatv  a  dunce r  cried  she,  so  like  John  Rochedale. 
Helen  retorted  with  .some  .spirit:  "You,  Hester,  are  so  differ- 
ent from  what  /think  it  is  nice  for  a  girl  to  be,  that  I  should  be 
very  sorry  if  you  did  like  me." 

"O,  I  like  you  well  enough,"  said  Hester,  with  her  royal 
indifTcrence.  "only  I  don't  approve  of  you;  but  we'll  get  on 
without  quarrelling,  as  cousins  should.  And  so,  Miriam,  you 
are  going  to  marry  Mark?  Do  you  consent  to  that,  Aunt 
Sophronia?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said  ;  "  if  Mark  and  Miriam  have  capital  enough-  to 
enter  safely  into  the  married  .state." 

"  I  did  iic^i  know  you  were  so  mercenary,"  said  Helen.  And 
Miri*m  quite  sadly  said:  "  But  we  have  no  capital,  aunt." 


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16  7//£   COMPLETE  IWME. 

"  I  will  explain  myself,  girls,"  I  added.  "  Let  me  first  call  to 
^  your  minds  the  Scripture,  '  Which  ol"  you,  intend. ng  to  build  a 
tower,  sitteth  not  down  first  and  counteth  the  cost,  whether  he 
have  sufficient  to  finish  it;  lest  haply  after  he  hath  laid  the 
foundation,  and  is  not  able  to  finish  it,  all  that  behold  beg,n 
to  mock  him,  saying:  This  n)an  began  to  build,  and  was  not 
able  to  finish.' 

"Now,  my  children,  if  it  is  so  important,  and  so  customarvfor 
those  who  build,  or  enter  into  any  business  enten^rise,  /.  co.ul 
the  cost  when  failure  will  not   be  final-when.  if  they  err  they 
can  retrieve  themselves,  or  they  can  give  up  all,  and  be,  at'least 
he  ncher  for  the  experience-s  it  not  far  more  needful  to  count 
the  cost  of  such  a  .step  as  marriage?  to-  consider  whether  you 
have  wherewith  not  only  to    lay  the   foundation  but   rear  the 
superstructure  of  a  Hon.e?     Remember  that  the  Home  is  an 
msftufon  of  God  him.self;  i^  i.s  his  ideal  of  the  life  of  humanity  • 
upon  ,t.  a.s  ba.si.s  and  model,  he  builds  up  nations.     A  Home  is' 
not  an  .solated  fragment  of  life :  it  is  an  integral  part  of  society 
Even,  home  has  its  infiuence.  for  good  or  evil,  upon  humanity  It 
large      Its  sanct.ty,  ,ts  honor,  its  importance,  is  the  care  of  our 
Creator,      fell  n.e,  girls,  in  thinking  of  marriage,  how  far  have 
you  thought  out  the  problem  of  your  future?  " 

"Why,"   says   Helen,   "I   have  thought  of  the  c-clat  of  the 
engagement,  and  then  the  buying  lots   of  things  and  havin. 
them  made  up  in  the  ve,y  latest  style,  and  the  cards,  the  cake^ 
he  presents,  and  the  bridesmaids.     I  shall  have  an  elegant  veil 
nd  a  wh,te  silk,  and  be  married   in  church,  and   hate  J 
Saratoga  trunks,  and  a  wedding  trip,  and-well,  thafs  as  far  a. 
ve  gone.     I  suppose  after  that  one  boards  at  a  hotel,  or  has  to 
.o   to   housc^eepmg.  and   Tn.  afraid    it  would   be   dreadfullv 
hun  d  But  no  more  so  than  flirting  with  one  and  anothe 

year  after  year,  and  seeing  all  the  girls  married  off  " 

"F-  ..y  part,"  sa,d  Mirian,  "  I  have  not  looked  at  all  thi, 


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this 


style  and  preparation  that  Helen  describes,  because  I  know  I 
cannot  afford  it.  Bu.  I  have  thought  I  should  hke  a  Httle  home 
all  to  myself,  and  I  would  keep  ,t  as  nice  as  I  cou.d.nT 
would  t,y  and  help  my  husband  on  in  the  world,  and  we  'sl^uld 
have  thmgs  finer  only  as  we  could  really  afford  it  And  I 
should  want  my  home  to  be  very  happy,  so  that"  all  who 
belonged  m  it  felt  that  it  was  the  best  place  in  all  the  world 
I  sliould  want  to  gather  up  all  the  good  that  I  could  every- 
where, and  bring  it  into  my  home,  as  the  bee  brings  all  its 
spoils  to  its  hive." 

"And  I."  said  Hester,  "want  to  make  myself  a  scholar,  and  I 
shall  marry  a  scholar,  and  we  shall  be  happy  in  leaming,  and 
m  mcreasing  knowledge.  And  he  shall  be  my  helper  and  I 
shall  help  him,  and  so  together  we  shall  climb  to  the  top' of  the 
tree." 

Vanity,  love,  ambition.     These  were  the  three  Graces  which 
incarnated  in  my  nieces,  sat  on  my  piazza.     I  said  to  them  ' 
Let  me  talk  to  you  seriously  upon  the  subject  of  a  Home. 
Two  young  people  marrj^;  they  are  united  until  death  do  theni 
part;  the.r  union  is  the  beginning  of  the  household;  that  house- 
hold,  m  ,ts  first  members,  may  last  fifty  or  even  seventy  years- 
and  whenever  it  is  broken  by  the  dea.h  of  one  or  both  of  them' 
.t  W.I1  most  likely  live  on  in  other  lives  and  other  households' 
wh.ch  m  it  have  found  their  origin.     The  household,  then  starts' 
m  wedded  man  and  woman :  the  man  is  a  part  of  society ;  he  has 
MS  business  in  the  world;  he  goes  among  his  fellows  carrying 
he  atmosphere  of  his  home  with  him ;  his  ideas  of  honor,  of  unselt 
fishness,  his  objects,  his  ambitions,  his  energies,  his  geniality 
h.s  sympathy,  his  physical  vigor,  are  largely  derived  from  his' 
home;  h.s  acts  are  stamped  with  his  feelings;  whether  he  vs 
goaded  to  grasp  all  and  trample  on  all  by  a  mad  thirst  for  gain 
or  a  wild  effort  to  cover  his  expenses  by  his  receipts-whether' 
he  .s  happy  or  sorry,  hopeful  or  discouraged,  interested  in  good 


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or  evil  things,  depends  largely  on  his  home  life.     Thus  the 
various  homes  among  men  appear  as  active  but  invisible  spirits 
in  all  the  departments  of  business  life— with  the  preacher  in  the 
pulpit,  the  doctor  by  his  patient,  the  lawyer  in  the  court,  the 
broker,  the  trader,  the  mechanic,  the  laborer,  making  or  marring 
insensibly  but  effectively  in  all  that  is  undertaken  in  the  world. 
The  wife  is  also  a  part  of  society  :  she  has  her  friends,  her  social, 
church  and  philanthropic  duties,  sometimes  even  some  business 
of  her  own.     Into  th;se  she  brings  her  spirit  as  it  is  fashioned 
in  her  home ;   if  order,  graciousness,  good  judgment,  probity, 
reign  there,  she  goes  forth  a  spirit  of  graciousness,  or  abides  at 
home  a  shining  light  to  all  who  come  there,  teaching  either  by 
precept  or  by  silent  example.     She  makes  her  home  a  fountain 
of  bitterness,  or  a  well-spring  of  strength,  bracing  her  husband's 
good  impulses,  or  developing  his  meaner  instincts.     She  makes 
her  home  a  model  of  economy,  beauty  and  propriety,  or  it  is  a 
false  light  of  extravagance,  spurring  others  to  waste,  or  it  is  a 
head-quarters  of  misrule. 

"Children  are  born  in  this  home:  they  shall  be  in  all  their  lives 
what  this  home  makes  them ;   they  shall  train  up  their  future 
children  to  be  ennobled  or  warped,  as  here  they  learned;  they 
shall  carry  their  energies  and  example  into  the  world  for  better 
or  worse,  as  here  u-as  taught  them.    The  Home  never  dies;  guests 
and  servants  come  and  go,  and  carry  out  its  influences;  like  the 
souls  in  whom  it  began,  like  God  its  founder,  it  abides  without 
end.     In  this  home  children  receive  also  their  instruction:  their 
worldly  occupations  are   chosen,  and  fortunes  are  laid   up  for 
them:  their  moral  character  is  determined.     You  see  thus  that 
all  the  energies,  the  business,  the  industries,  the  inventions  of  the 
world,  have  really  their  centre,  their  inception  in  the  Mome :  it  is 
the  world's  animate  heart.     Era.se  all  homes  all  home  life,  ties, 
needs,  joys,  and  how  long  would  the  xvheds  of  labor  and  com- 
merce move  on  ?    The  inventor  would  drop  his  useless  pursuits, 


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THE  FOUNDATION  OF  A   HOME. 


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the  miner's  toil  would  cease,  the  artisan  would  no  longer  ply  his 
useless  tools,  man  would  find  himself  without  spur  or  object  in 
life.  How  important,  then,  is  every  Home!  what  a  tremendous 
responsibility  surrounds  its  founding!  how  needful  to  count  the 
cost !  What  have  you  in  yourself  of  reserve  force  to  make  this 
new  home  a  root  of  blessing?  Count  the  cost,  whether  you 
have  wherewith  to  lay  a  solid  foundation  and  build  a  goodly 
superstructure." 

"Mercy!"  cried   Helen;  "if  I   faced  such  responsibilities,  I 
should  be  frightened  to  death." 

"  Let  us  begin  at  the  foundation,"  said  Miriam ;  "  tell  me, 
what  is  the  first  thing  needful  in  starting  a  home  ?" 

"The  first  thing,"  said  I,  "  is  sound  moral  principle.     Let  me 
tell  you  that  I  do  not  believe  there  are  impregnably  good  prin- 
ciples that  are  not  established  on  religion  as  a  basis.     The  heart 
is  so  deceitful,  and  temptations  are  so  strong,  that  unless  the 
soul  is  braced  with  religion,  principle  is  not  secure  of  withstand- 
ing the  onset  of  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil.     The  true 
ideal  of  the  home,  then,  is  its  inception  in  two  who  are  Chris- 
tians, and  who  have  a  oneness  of  religious  belief     True,  there 
have  been  very  happy  homes  where  parents  held  different  dog- 
mas; but  now  we  arc  speaking  of  the  best  that  can  be  brought 
together  for  the  founding  of  the  model  home,  and  we  say  first  a 
oneness  of  religious  principle.     Religious  principle,  which  takes 
the  'thus  saith  the  Lord'  as  an  ultimatum,  is  a  family  anchorage 
not  on  shifting  sands.     The  Divine  Law  is  a  court  of  appeal  by 
whose  decisions  all  the  household  will  abide,  and  thus,  where 
there  is  oneness  of  religious  principle,  the  wedded  pair  have 
confidence  in  and  for  each  other;  they  have  found  a  solid  rock 
stratum  whereon  to  set  up  their  new  Home." 

"Well,  aunt,"  said  Helen,  "both  Miriam  and  Mark  are  mem- 
bers of  the  same  church.  Now  I  don't  look  at  that  in  the  light 
that  you  do,  and  I  shall  not  refuse  Frank  Hand  because  I  am 
a  church-member  and  he  is  not." 


Tm 


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20 


7//£   COMPLETE  IJOME. 


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h  1 


ill  !<■ 


"Why  should  you?"  demanded  Hester;  "have  you  ever  ia 
any  way  put  yourself  out  for  your  church  membership  ?  " 

I  hastened  to  forestall  a  dispute,  "Yes,"  I  said,  "  Mark  and 
M.nam  have  that  oneness  of  rclJgrious  principle  which  I  demand 
as  the  foundation  of  a  good  home." 

"You  are  unromantic."  said  Helen;  "  I  should  have  thought 
you  would  have  said  love  came  first.  What  an  idea,  for  a  man 
and  woman  to  set  up  a  model  home  with  love  left  out!" 

"If  they  have  sound  religious  principle  they  will  not  marry 
without  love,  because  they  will  know  that  God  demands  deep 
and  abidmg  love  in  a  married  pair-love  that  will  not  grow  cold 
norweao^.     Love  that  has  no  basis  in  religious  principle  will 
often  prove  a  passion,  fleeting  as  night-shade  blooms,  leaving 
only  some  seed  of  discontent.     Those  who  have  religious  print 
cple,  recognizing  the  sacredness  and  the  lasting  nature  of  the 
marnage  bond,  will  be  very  sure  that  they  are  not  mar^^ing  for 
wh.m    for  passing  fancy,  or  from  motives  of  convenience    but 
hat  they  are  really  choosing  from  the  world  one  whom  they 
love  better  than  all  the  world,  whom  they  can  take  for  better 
or  worse,  until  death  do  them  part.     Therefore,  having  sound 
rehg,ous  pnnciple  as  the  rock-basis  whereon  to  build,  we  lay  in 
loyal  love  the  corner-stone  of  Home." 

"Miriam,"  said  Helen,  mischievously,  "have  you  that  love  ?" 
Hester  came  brusquely  to  the  rescue.  "As  Miriam  has  not 
fnttered  away  her  emotions  in  flirtations,  as  she  has  not  shown 
her  low  estimate  of  love  by  breaking  two  or  three  engagements 
we  w.11  beheve  that  at  twenty-two  she  knows  her  mind  L  ol 
accepts  a  suitor  to  whom  she  gives  a  heart  which  she  has  carj. 
lully  guarded  as  a  thing  of  worth." 

othe^'T'-  '  "'"'  "''""^  "  ^°"  ^"'  >'""  ^'•^  °'^-  ^^^-  theso 
other  girls  in  your  opinions." 

"I  have  lived  with  books  and  not  wast.rl  my  time  with    -ir 
people,"  said  Hester,  scornfully.  "~  ^  "  ""^ 


THE  FOUNDATION  OF  A   HOME.  '       2I 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are  getting  hard  and  cymcal,  my  poor  child  " 
[  said ;  "what  will  become  of  you  ! "  ' 

"Never  mind  me,-  said  Hester;  "continue  to  instruct  these 
other  two  on  the  subject  of  a  Home." 

^'Love  so  enduring  and  ardent  as  fits  it  to  be  the  Home's  co. 
ner-stone.  must  be  the  result  of  something  more  than  a  hasty 
fancy:  love  should  be  built  on  sincere   respect,  and  this  should 
anse  from  thorough  acquaintance.     This  respecting  love  does 
not  claim  the  perfection  of  its  object,  because  those  worthy  of 
our  heartiest  and  most  admiring  affection  may  have  many  faults 
but  they  are  what  may  be  called  superficial  faults-they  are  not 
ti.e  crmes  of  falsehood,  meanness,  cruelty,  self-serving  or  unfaith 
To  have  a  proper  groundwork  for  love  in  a  thorough  acquaint- 
ance, young  people  should  not  rush  into  engagements  after  a 
short  mtimacy,  else  in  a  little  while  longer  they  may  discern 
that  there  is  no  congeniality  between  them.     Neither  do  I  believe 
in  engagements  formed  between  the  very  young.     Young  people 
change  so  between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and  twenty-one,  that  they 
can  hardly  be  recognized  as  the  same  persons.     Especially  Jf 
they  are  parted  from  each  other  during  this  period  of  changing 
tastes,  they  will  grow  into  great  unlikeness:  in  ninety-nine  cases 
out  of  a  hundred  neither  will  become  the  ideal  of  the  other  and 
neither  will  prove  to  be  that  manner  of  persons  which  they  were 
once  supposed  to  be  by  the  other.     Under  these  conditions  the 
engagement  trammels  them,  and  can  only  be  productive  of  mis- 
ery.    I  should  say,  then,  let  an  acquaintance  as  long  as  possible 
or  long  enough  to  promote  a  thorough  understanding  of  each 
other's  character,  precede  a  matrimonial  engagement." 

"And  then,"  interrupted  Helen,  "just  long  enough  time  to  get 
your  trousseau  in  good  order." 

"Not  so  fast,  my  dear.  I  do  not  advocate  whaf  is  -nlled  a 
long-  engagement,  but  not  so  short  a  one  as  a  few  weeks  occupied 
by  shoppuig,  dress-makers  and  milliners.     I  should  want  time 


!     '( 


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22 


T/f£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


If 


enough  for  the  young  people  to  calmly  lay  their  plans,  furthe* 
count  the  cost  of  their  iic\w  undertaking,  and  grow  into  greater 
oneness  of  opinion  and  object.  Life  is  full  of  trials  and  reverses; 
constantly  things  are  occurring  to  give  love  a  rude  shock,  and 
care  should  be  hac^  that  the  love  is  so  well  settled  in  knowledge 
and  esteem,  that  it  will  deepen  and  not  lessen  by  trials;  that  it 
will  endure  with  patience;  improve  with  time,  like  good  wine; 
that  it  will,  like  the  morning  and  the  path  of  the  just,  grow' 

brighter  and  brighter." 
"I  am  afraid,"  laughed  Helen,  "that  a  few  months  engage, 

ment  would  give  me  time  to  change  my  mind.     I  should  see 

my  beloved's   imperfections   so   clearly  as   to   decline   further 

acquaintance." 

"  Better  change  your  mind,  if  you  change  at  all,  before  you  are 
warned  than  after,  and  get  into  a  divorce  court."  said  Hester. 

"Why,   Mi.s  Lawyer,  I  supposed  ^^«  were  strong-minded, 
and  did  not  decry  a  divorce  court,"  retorted  Helen 

"I've  a  mind  to  shake  you  I  "cried  poor  Hester,  in  a  rage. 
A  woman  who  has   really  strength  of  mind  will   be   stronjj 
e..ough  to  see  that  all  that  defies  God's  law  is  really  weakness 
Divorce  ,s  w.cked;  but  no  wonder  it  is  frequent  when  so  many 
people  jest  at  being  variable  and  fickle." 

"We   interrupt  aunt,"  said  Miriam.     "How  shall  true  love 
show  Itself  in  home-building  ?  " 

"Love,  like  faith,  shows  itself  by  works:  now  what  capital 
have  you  in  yourself  wherewith  to  build  up  for  your  love  a 
worth,  HomeP  What  material  have  you  in  yourself  to  enable 
you     o   show  your   love?  .  Love   desires  the  happiness   of  its 

ha  j.st  said  rather  sadly  that  she  and  Mark  have  no  capital 
I  think  m  this  counting  of  the  cost  of  the  Home  Building  J 
have  just  shown  you  that  religious  principle  whereon  to  bui'ld 
-  me  nrst  part  of  the  capital  needed,  and  Love  as  a  corne. 


THE   FOUNDATION  OF  A   HOME. 


23 


stone  comes  next.  Courage,  then,  Miriam;  possibly  you  may 
discover  that  you  are  a  larger  capitalist  than  you  thought^ 
Happiness  is  largely  dependent  upon  health.  Here  one  would 
hesitate  to  lay  doun  arbitrary  rules,  for  there  are  so  many 
circumstances  which  alter  cases:  and  yet,  as  health  is  so  largely 
a  spring  of  happiness;  as  sickness  or  constant  feebleness  brings 
so  much  misery  into  homes;  and  especially  as  so  many  diseases 
are  hereditary,  and  the  unhealthful  parent  entails  a  physical 
curse  on  his  children  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation-I  should 
say,  that  where  people  know  themselves  the  heritors  of  scrofulous 
diseases— of  insanity,  or  manias,  or  other  hereditary  ills— then 
they  would  do  well,  early  in  their  history,  to  choose  for  them- 
selves  a  single  life." 

"  But  suppose  a  woman  preferred  to  care  for  the  last  days  of 
one  whom  she  loved  ?  "  said  Miriam. 

"As  I  said,  rules  cannot  suit  every  case,"  I  replied. 
"  Pity  that  her  affections  should  have  been  entangled  by  one 
who  ought  not  to  marry,"  said  Hester, 

"  Yes ;  because  the  sacrifice  of  herself  may  entail  the  life- 
misery  of  her  children,"  said  Helen,  soberly. 
I  continued . 

"  Is  it  very  heroic  or  honorable  for  a  feeble  young  man, 
especially  without  capital  to,  bequeath  to  a  family,  to  marry, 
and  having  been  nu.^od  and  mourned  over  by  his  wife  for  a  few 
years,  to  die,  leaving  an  impoverished  widow,  with  several 
sickly  children?  Would  it  not  have  been  a  nobler  part  for  this 
young  man  to  control  his  expectations  and  desires,  to  accept 
the  lot  wliich  was  laid  upon  him,  to  mingle  only  generally  in 
society,  devoting  himself  especially  to  no  one,  and,  bearing 
his  own  burden,  go  out  of  the  world  glad  of  this  at  least,  that  he 
had  not  made  others  sharers  in  his  diseases? " 

"My  father  says,"  remarked  Hester,  "that  this  rule  should 
hold  fcr  those  who  have  a  love  of  alcohol,  or  who  have  klepto* 


■^i  te 


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24 


T//£  COMPLETE  HOME. 


W 


mania.     Who  would  wish  to  raise  a  family  of  thieve,  or  of 

drunkards  ?  " 

"  I  think,  on  the  whole,"  said  Helen,  "  that  more  feeble  girls 
than  young  men  marry,  and  that  men  are  the  ones  who  igno 
rantly  or  intentionally  are  deceived.     It  is  not  so,  aunt  ?     Look 
at  that  side  of  the  question." 

"A  young  man  making  his  way  in  the  world  finds  the  struggle 
haro  enough:  how  much  harder  is  it  when  he  marries  some  girl 
who  .oems  as  healthful  and  happy  as  others,  but  who  knows 

hant-ng  over  he,  which,  speedily  developed  by  the  cares  and 

er  f:T        nr  '^^^'^"''^■^^  invalid,  entailing  her  mis- 
n      on  her  ch.ldren  ?     Such  young  folks  would  be  likely  to 
•vc  longer,  and  more  comfortably,  and  surely  with  less  anxiety 
and  less  eause  of  self-reproach,  if  they  had  remained  singt 
ZTT  "''""•  ^°^'^'  "^^^^  -^  Philanthropies  were 
-  a  v.le  selfishness  to  marry  merely  to  be  taken  care  ofT  So 
M-nan,  as  you  and  Mark  are.  so  far  as  you  both  have  exper' 

hal  M     ^  °'  '''''  "'P'^^  "-^^"'  ^-  "Pbuilding  a 

hapi.y  and  long-enduring  Home." 

courll'""'',  ''  '""'  ""'  "'"  ''"'''  P^^P^"-^^  '"^  to  '"eet  life 
courageously  m  my  new  Home." 

"That  Home.  Miriam,  you  are  to  build  up  within,  while  Mark 
bu  d.  .v,„out.  On  his  part  is  needed  business  kn;wledge  and 
ability  „,  whatever  line  of  life  he  has  chn«.n        , 

..ne  or  life  aire.,  entered  ^::'7:rt:r. :::::::: 
hT::,,'" """-; "'""'"  ^■■— -With  him,if  s,:te 

ctetr!,::.7 '  *"  '"  '^  '""  •'  '«  "  "-st  ^  temng  her 
exactly  what  Ins  means  are;  but  no  man  has  a  rirht  f„  ..fr 
woman  half  „r  „,.,„■„,..  „„  „,,  „„  ,.  „„  .„  .^  I'  ,     J,  ti^ 
"-"  ..  n,ake   other  pe.ple  p,n,.rs.     A  health,,  'ind^,,:^ 


THE  FOUNDATION  OF  A  HOME. 
young  couple  can  live  on  very' little  money  inueed;  they  can 
save  and  they  can  earn,  but  there  should  be  something  to  save 
and  some  means  of  earning,  and  that  '  something  ■   and  those 
'means'   should   be   equally   and    fairly    understood    by  both 
Especially  no  young  couple  should  start  in  life  burdened  by 
debts.     Expenses  in  a  household  are  likely  to  increase  and  not 
dimmish.     Nothing  so  breaks  the  spirit  as  a  load  of  debt     Let 
every  young  man  clear  off  the  last  dollar  of  his  debts  before  he 
takes  a  wife.     It  is  safe  in  verj^  many  cases,  we  might  say  in 
every  case,  where  the  young  pair  are  healthful,  industrious  and 
economical,  to  start  without  any  cash  capital,  if  there  is  in  the 
young  man's  possession  some  reliable  business,  with  its  reason- 
ably  settled  gains;  but  it  is  not  safe  to  start  hampered  by  any 
debts.     '  Owe  no  man  anything— but  to  love  one  another.' " 

"  Well,   Mark   has   no   debts,  and  he  has  a  business,"  said 
Miriam,  with  a  sigh  of  relief 

"While    Mark   in   his   daily  business,  which  furnishes  him  a 
reasonable  prospect  of  support,  builds  up  his  Home  from  without, 
do  you,  Miriam,  know  how  to  build  it  up  xiithin?   What  do  you' 
know  about  housekeeping?     If  it  is  Mark's  to  mAke  money,  it 
IS  yours  to  spend  it  judiciously:  to  save  it  so  far  as  you  can, 
without  sacrifice  of  comfort  and  decency.     Will  you  be  able  to 
take  his  income  and  out  of  it  produce  in  your  home  refinement, 
taste,  plenty,  good  order,  strict  economy,  and  achieve  at  least 
M.cawbcr  financiering,  which  will  save  a  dollar  out  of  the  year's 
allowance?     That  is,  will  you  fall  xvithin  the  income,  even  if  it 
be  by  never  so  little,  and  not  fall  without  the  income,  even  if  it 
be  by  nc'vcr  so  little?     This.  Miriam,  can  be  done  only  if  you 
are  prepared  like  the  wise  women  in  Proverbs  to  look  well  to 
the  ways  of  your  household ;  to  look  at  tlicm  understandingly. 
You  must  know  how  everything  should  be  done,  even  though 
you  may  not  have  to  do  it  yourself     If  you  rely  on  telling  your 
fliaid  to  make  good  bread,  and  yet  do  not  yours.;lf  know  how 


^^  77/^  COMPLETE  HOME. 

that  is  to  be  done,  you  are  likely  to  have  poor  bread  or  h      ^ 
wastefully  made.     ITyou  tell  yo.r  servant  to  be  ecoTo^I  l^ 
do  not  yourself  know  all  tl.e  ite.s  of  economical  pra le 
sure  there  w,ll  be  waste  somewhere.    Streams  do  not  risT^;; 
than  the.r  source,  and  first-rate  housekeeping  is  secured  7 
w  ere  there  is  a  first-rate  housekeeper  at'th!  l:^^^^ 
although  she  may  not  personally  perform  any  of  the  labor '' 
Th,s  may  be  pleasing  talk  to  Miriam/'  said  Helen  "but  \t 
gives   me    the    horrors       VVhnf   -^   a  v 

urrors.       vviiat  a  delmquent    am   I!    bread! 

economy!  financiering!" 
I  ig-.ored  her  interruption,  and  continued  • 

large  cash  capital  which  her  huI^nlT  '"'""'>"""=''  '•"'>' 
capital  „.„,„U  L,  litelyt  „  :  "  .  T  "m  """°"*  "  "'' 
grand  b.i„«.,  abilitiL  „„,,!;';  '  »'''  ~.-tcrba.a„c= 
capital  i„  „„.  ,ik,„  ,„  ,.„„_  ^;  ,.^:  X/  ''  -^  .'-^■■"^'. 
Helen,  and  mun.ble  that  i,  ;,  .,,,  '"'"'■     ^°'''  '•":"■ 

l--.eepi„,  i,  n„,vn,',  ,:t''  7™™  ^-'c%c- 
■■and  bea„t,,  .i.h  the  „:„er  1 1  i,  "  tl  itf'^'  ''!'"  ""' 
m-ic  and  i.  orde.  ,i,e  .he  ,,.„,  ,  h  i  'l:  '"TT'"  "i^ 
good  housekeeping,  which  exhibit,  it,.|f ,'!  in  T  '^     *" 

wl'ich  extends  fro„,  u,c  atHcto  th  """^    '"""^'"■•'•■l""!.' 

'>°"r  in  the  year  i,  f,  f  „  "■'"''"'  "'"'  ""■•"'!.■''  ever, 

^--iii,  r-,  lai  iio,„  common 

-a.npti,e.air,„;  rhretrr^LT,"'  "t^  '■^■•"■" 
™  the  wife's  ,„„.  „„„  „„„^.„  ,,j:    y"'^  f  "^  housekeeping 

"  n>ay  be.  „n  the  husband,  "  """'•''"'•  "'""••-" 


d,  or  bread 
omical,  and 
3ractice,  be 
rise  higher 
cured  onfy 

of  affairs, 
abor." 
;n,  "  but  it 

.'    bread  1 


ceping,  a 
'man  can 
linst  any 
ut  it  his 
rbalance 
lacking, 
t  sneer, 
•ledge ; ' 
'ith  one 
ies  h'ke 
r  really 
!  cnter- 
eeping 
every 

ove  as 
begin 
ejjing 
itevci' 

Quse* 


r//E  FOUNDATION  OP  A  HOME. 


27 


Iff!] 


"I  should  condemn  myself,  Miriam,"  I  replied,  "if  I  had 
allowed  you  to  grow  up  in  ignorance  of  housekeeping.  Fa- 
miliarity,  says  the  proverb,  breeds  contempt,  but  it  is  ignorance 
of  housekeeping  which  breeds  contempt  for  that  art;  true 
familiarity  with  all  its  departments  begets  profound  respect  for  it." 
"Aunt  Sophronia,"  demanded  Hester,  "do  you  consider  good 
housekeeping  and  good  scholarship  incompatible  ?  " 

"  Surely  not,"  I  replied.     "  Very  many  most  admirable,  prac- 
tical housekeepers  are  not  scholars ;  scholarship  has  not  come 
in  their  way,  nor  suited  their  taste ;  but  wherever  a  woman  is  a 
sound  scholar,  she  ought  to  be  therefore  the  finer  housekeeper. 
Reaching  toward   perfection   in  any  one   thing  should  lift  us 
higher  in  all  things ;  it  should  beget  a  habit  of  application  and 
thoroughness.     Housekeeping  embraces  a  very  large  part  of 
our  home  duties,  and  we  should  all  feel  that  nothing  is  too 
good  and  beautiful  to  be  laid  on  the  altar  of  home.    Scholarship 
produces  logical  thought,  correct  taste,  order,  sound  judgment; 
and  all  these  are  needful  to  good  housekeeping,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  scientific  knowledge  required,  and  which  many  use  imitat- 
ivcly,  not  knowing  that  science  is  concerned.     If  classical  study 
makes  a  preacher  a   better   preacher,  and  a  lawyer  a   better 
lawyer,  it  should  make  a  housekeeper  a  better  housekeeper ;  a 
woman  who  could  read  the  Georgics  outdit  not  to  burn  her  beef- 
steak ;  the  training  which  teaches  her  to  construe  an  eclogue 
should  bid  her  take  the  steak  from  the  fire  when  it  was  properly 
cooked." 

"  But  her  mind  might  be  so  absorbed  in  the  eclogue  as  to  for- 
get the  beef,"  .said  Helen. 

"  That  is  about  as  reasonable  as  to  say  that  because  the  lawyer 
learned  to  scan  he.\ameters,  he  would  suddenly  become  absorbed 
in  them  and  forget  his  business  when  applying  for  a  writ  of 
habeas  corpu.i." 

"You  make  me  think  of  our  Nora,"  laughed  Hester;  "  father 


\      :>(l 


'III  11 


^  ""^    COMPLETE  HOME. 

cried  ou,  ,0  her,  .  Nora !  your  salad  is  „ol  crisp :  ie  seems  wilted  • 

d.     you  have  i.  i„  „a.erp.    •  Fai*  i.  was  Lin'  „    hT  pa„ 

^^■'il  I  do  that?'  says  Nora      'R  ,  '''^'>' 

on«.eup,ersurjj:::,,ir::-^ -;--;;* 

.'ay  so,  J'll  put  .eu,  ^;  ^^y  ^        ,  ■      '"'I  h"-       If  you 

".outh  i„  a  salad  leaf,  here  nor  ye  i„      Id  .rlr     '""•"=  " 
thing  is  made  right  ■■■  ""  "^land,  where  irery- 

:^-::/r::ir-F----- 

«lad  I  ever  ate  w  if'  ""'    "'  '"^  ""™^'  "  -'  «-  fees, 
beauty      1!„, t  "'"''•'  '•*''-•  '"'-'I  b-utin.l  in  i,s 

f»^  ^m-d  r  :zz  'r '  r  T"t  -' "-  -""-'  --^^ 

■*r  and  neatness,  L  t L  rh:;:!  Xf  '  "l  "'""'"=' 
-ow  to  eool.  rood  is  ,„,good  ho  e  ^  J  'k"'""'''  '°  ''■"°" 
especially  demanded  of  L  '^"'P'^'U-     hcommy  will  be 

in  .l-emselves     Ar^  luT'T ."T  '  "'"'  ""^^  ""  ''"*"-  ""t 
Can  yon  be  ehet^dMi    '",    '  ''''"'"'  """  ^*--""-' 

*-»P>ay  and  ha^mor       l:  J"'  >°"7™^^.  -^^  a  greater 
to  save  a  little  every  y    '  "  v    '  '    "'"'  """  '^  --""- 

-...orehamc.::::hrn::t::::;ti:rr' ™'' 

"^     can  yon  cut  out  frarmcnf.!  ?     r 
n'cnci,  a:,d  rc-maL-  p     p;,,,  ,,.  ^      '^^'^'"'■"t'' ?     Can  yo„  make. 

-   ■     ^'^'^°'P°or.cvco^  woman  should  know 


T^"    ^«-*-'*-JWHiai 


'Uiff% 


THE   FOUNDATION  OF  A   HOME. 


29 


how  to  do  this;  if  she  is  rich,  she  may  be  poor  some  day  and 
need  the  knowledge,  or  she  can  now  do  this  work  for  the  objects 
of  her  charity,  and  so  increase  her  means  of  usefulness.     Burns, 
in  the  world's  loveliest  pastoral,  says,  his  house-mother  '  gars 
auld  clacs  look  amaist  as  good  as  new.'     You  whp  begin  in 
humble  fashion  shall  move  on  this  road  of  tasteful,  neat  econ- 
omy in  your  clothing  toward  the  virtuous  woman's  height  of 
'clothing  her  household  in  scarlet,  and  making  herself  coverings 
of  tapestry,  and  her  clothing  silk  and  purple.'     While  in  the 
olden  time  the  housewife  '  laid  her  hands  to  the  spindle  and  held 
the  distaff,'  now  machinery  performs  for  her  these  labors,  an  1 
she  can  devote  herself  to  cutting  and  fitting,  darning,  basting 
and  turning,  satisfied  that  to  save  is  to  gain  ;  and  if  she  saves  for 
love  and  duty's  or  lioly  charity's  sake,   she  makes  the  work 
beautiful  and  honorable.    Every  woman  should  be  a  good  seam- 
stress as  well  as  a  good  housekeeper,  whether  she  be  obliged 
to  use  her  needle  herself  or  not.     There  is  a  growing  neglect 
of  nice  hand-sewing,  and  I  know  young  women  who  are  not 
ashamed  to  proclaim  that  'they  don't  know  how  to  make  a 
button-hole,  and  their  hemming  looks  like  witches.' " 

"Well,"  laughed  Miriam,  "  I  can  sew:  so  that's  more  capital." 
"Another  important  item  in  founding  a  home  is,  that  the 
young  people  have  and  cultivate  equable,  cheery  dispositions, 
that  their  homes  be  bright  and  attractive.  A  gruff,  fault-finding, 
never-pleased  man  makes  his  home  hateful;  a  morose,  quer- 
ulous, .spiteful  woman  makes  her  home  equally  hateful.  If 
such  dispositions  are  in  you,  you  must  conquer  them  for  the 
.sake  of  I  Ionic  comfort,  that  over  your  Household  may  rest  the 
blessing  of  peace.  Cultivate  also  for  your  home,  intelligence ; 
there  are  other  matters  of  interest  needed  to  converse  about 
than  llu;  price  of  potatoes  and  the  draught  of  the  kitchen 
eiiimncy. 

"  Stories  generally  end  with  the  marriage-ring,  but  here  the' 


i    .1 


1'  f ' 


••ii. 


.*•'■,' 


30 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


most  .mportant  story  of  life  begins.     After  the  marriage-rin^ 
come  the   greatest   beauties   of  self-sacrifice,   the   strength    of 
perseverance,  the  heights   of  courage,  the  tenderness  of  sym- 
pathy, the  need  of  patience.     Search  yourselves  and  see  whether 
you  have  m  your  hearts  the  germs  of  these  things,  which  need 
may  develop  into  luxuriant  growth.     Have  you  in  yourselves 
the  essentials   for   the   founding  of  a   home?     Have  you  any 
home-making  capacity?     If  not,  then,  out  of  consideration  for 
the  worlds  already  sufficiently  great  burden  of  misery   don't 
marry.  ' 

"But  if  you  can  look  honestly  at  the  future,  see  that  it  will 
not  all  be  love-making  and  plenty  and  pleasure,  but  that 

•No  loi  below 
For  one  whole  day  escapeth  care; ' 

that  there  will  be  clouds  with  the  sunshine,  and  .ant  mixed 
w.th  plenty,  and  sorrow  with  joy,  and  pain  with  comfort;  and  if 
you  find  you  have  in  you  ability  to 

•  Make  a  sunshine  in  a  shady  place; ' 
-fyou  can  see  two  walking  courageously  together  because  they 
be  agreed,  hftmg  up  each  other  when  they  fall,  standing  by 
each  other   m   disaster,  and    liking  .good   better   because  it  is 
^lared-then  marry;  and  there_  will  be  one  more  true  Home 
m  the  world,  one  more  source  of  good,  one  more  fountain  of 
joy  tc generations  to  come;  the  state  and  the  world  will  be  the 
better  for  you  and  for  your  Home." 

"Why!--  cried  Hester,  in  her  dashing  way,  "who  is  sufficient 
for  these  things?" 

•'All  honest  hearts  who  are  capable  of  loving,  and  are  cour- 
ageousy  resolved  to  do,  day  by  day,  their  ve^^  best,  living 
down  the,r  disasters,  and  repairing  their  mistakes."  ^ 

I  sec."  said  Miri-TfTi   "ivlv  T-fM.  a         ^ 
of  an  Pn.       X  V"'         '  ^  "°*  "^^"^  ^^^  ^''oJe  time 

an  engaged  couple  consumed  in  preparations  of  dress  and 


THE  FOUNDATION  OF  A  HOME. 


rriage-ring 
rength  of 
s  of  sym- 
:e  whether 
'hich  need 
/ourselves 
you  any 
ration  for 
iiy,  don't 

fiat  it  will 
it 


It  mixed 
t ;  and  if 


use  they 
ding  by 
ise  it  is 

Home 
tain  of 

be  the 

ifficient 


31 


house-furnishing,  that  leave  them  no  time  to  think,  when  the 
subject  is  of  so  great  importance." 

"If  you  take  it  so  seriously,  Miriam,"  said  Helen,  "you  will 
grow  as  perfect  as  Aunt  Sophronia's  model,  Mrs.  VVinton.  As 
for  me,  thinking  of  so  many  duties  would  make  me  gray  in  a 
week.  I  think  I  shall  have  to  risk  the  married  state  without 
finding  in  myself  any  particular  capacity  for  it." 

So  in  this  world  we  walk  according  to  our  lights.     Does  the 
light  burn  low  because  we  were  started  in  life  with  very  little 
oil  in  it,  or  because  we  have  not  been  taught  to  tend  and  trim 
it  properly  ?     Miriam  is  a  very  different  girl  from  Helen,  and  / 
will  not  say  it  is  my  training  that   has  made  the  difference. 
However,  such  as  they  were  they  married :  Miriam  and  Mark, 
and  Helen  and  Frank  Hand.     Frank  and  his  wife  had  the  most 
money;  but  Mark  and  Miriam  had  what  I  called  the  most  real 
capital  for  the  founding  of  a  home— good  religious   principle, 
true  love,  health,    knowledge   of  housekeeping  and   business, 
industry,   economy,   courage,   intelligence,    good    dispositions; 
they  were   not   perfect,   but  very   fair  samples   of   humanity. 
Miriam  and  Mark  had  a  plain  wedding  and  no  wedding  tour. 
They  had  a  snug  little  cottage  into  which  they  went  on  their 
marriage  day,  and  I  called  that   evening  to  bid  them  "good- 
night."    As    I    went  away  I  prayed    David's   Prayer:  "Let  it 
please  thee  to  bless  the  house  of  thy  servant,  that  it  may  con- 
tinue forever  before  thee:  for  thou,  O  Lord  God,  hast  sp6ken  it. 
and  with  thy  blessing  let  the  house  of  thy  servant  be  blessed 
forever." 


(  cour- 
living 


e  time 

ss  and 


li 


CHAPTER   ir. 

ORDER   IN  THE  HOME. 
AUNT  SOPHRONIA'S   IDEAS   OF  TIME-SAVING. 

HAD  invited  my  three  nieces  to  spend  my  birthday  with 
me.     During  dinner  Hester  informed  us  that  she  vva<, 
Somg  away  to  school,  and  expected  to  remain  most  of 
the  time  for  four  years. 
"Ridiculous  ."cried  Helen :  "you  w:II  then  be  past  twenty 
without  havmg  been  in  society;  at  wh.t  age  do  you  expect  to 
be  married  at  that  rate  ? "  i-        " 

"  I  have  set  no  period  for  that  impo.-^ant  event,"  said  Hester 
vv.th  her  lofty  smile.     "  However,  I  have  in  my  reading  hap-' 
pened  upon  a  deal  of  advice  on  that  subject,  and  I  find  that 
Phys.c,ans  and  other  wise  people  consider  from  twenty-two  until 
tu^nty-five  the  .est  age  for  marriage,  and  they  assert  that  many 
evils  of  early  deaths,  feeble  health,  unhappy  homes,  sickly  chil- 
clren  and  so  forth  and  so  on.  result  from  premature  marriages  " 
If  you  must  go  to  school,"  said  Helen,  deserting  the  first 
question,  as  she  always  does  when   Hester  begins  to  argue  "  I 
hope  you  will  learn  music.     Every  one  does,  and  you  will  s^em 
dreadfully  stupid  and  unfashionable  if  you  cannot  play." 

"I  shall  not  study  music,  as  it  would  be  a  waste  of  time 

and  money,"  replied  Hester;  "only  those  who  have  some  apti- 

udo  for  music  should  study  it;  as  for  me,  I  have  neither  voice 

nor  ear.  and  why  should  I  drill  on  an  art  where  I  can  never 

achieve  success  ?     Why  study  music  merely  because  it  has  be. 

coaic  the  fashion  to  pretend  to  pursue  it?   "if  I  spend  on  music 


ORDER  IN  THE  HOME. 
two  hours  a  day  during  n.y  four  years'  course,  I  spend  two 
thousand  five  hundred  and  four  hours,  and  four  hundred  dollar. 
upon  music,  and  then  can  only  drum  on  the  piano,  and  not  plav 
w.th  taste  and  sympathy     All  those  hours  and  that  money  on 
tlie  other  hand,  might  put  me  in  possession  of  some  branch'^or 
which  I  have  real  aptitude.     Folks  should  study  what  ,s  suited 
to  ihcmsdvcs,  to  their  own  needs  and  abilities,  not  merely  some- 
thing  that   other    people   study      Goethe   says,   'We   should 
guard  against  a  talent  which  we  cannot  hope  to  practise  in 
perfection.' " 

"Well,  there  is  painting,  Hester,"  said  Miriam:  "you  have  ^ 
real  taste  for  the  beautiful  art." 

"  I  have  taste,  but  no  genius,"said  Hester;  "  I  can  appreciate 
what  other  people  do,  but  I  cannot  create  beauty  myself;  I 
should  be  merely  a  mediocre  artist,  and  there  are  plenty  oUkan 
m  the  market.  Now,  I  have  ability  for  scholarship;  natural 
sciences  and  languages  are  my  delight;  therefore  I  shall  pursue 
that  in  which  I  can  succeed." 

;  Is  it  better,"  asked  Miriam,  « to  know  something  of  even., 
thing,  or  everything  of  something  ?  " 

"Absolutely,  one  can  do  neitheV  I  said 
"Well,  within  human  limitations,  understood." 
It  is  better,"  said  Hostci-  "f^  i,„ 
r„r,l,™       T  .""'"•     toknowevctytliinfTO'somcthin!;, 

thoroughness  ,s  .„  i.sc,f  a  groat  virtue,  and  »il,  onto,  into 
all  your  l.fe,  mak.ng  one  i„  „„  things  pai„„aki„g  ,„d  honcsf 
T-h-s  devotmg  yourself  ,o  one  thing,  however,"  said  Hole* 
v,II  mate  you   oncidead,  crotchety,  a  hobby-rider,  and  y,^ 
Will  be  detestable." 

"These  people  of  one  idea  have  been  the  people  who  mov.d 
the  world,"  retorted  Hester. 

"The  fact  is,  my  dear  girls,"  I  interposed,  "no  one  branch  .r 
stuuy  stands  isolated  ;  it  reaches  out  and  intermingles  and'tal  'en 
hold  of^others.     Hester's  ideas  are  in  the  main  correct;  stidy 


i  W 


:l 


\    :M! 


84 


7//2i    COMPLETE   ii^.vlE. 


^f  :i 


'  ;  i  i 


1 .2ii  ;un: 


}  ;  ;•  < 


>'>  liMis 


m    !: 


that  for  which  you  find  in  yourselves  most  aptitude ;  aspire  to 
completeness  in  whatever  you  undertake ;  value  knowledge,  and 
seize  whatever  comes  in  your  way,  and  put  what  you  acquire  to 
use  as  fiist  as  you  can.     The   Lord  found  great  fault  with  the 
servant  who  buried  his  talent  in  a  napkin." 
*'  What  do  you  suppose  his  talent  was  ?  "  asked  Helen. 
"  Time,  perhaps :  the  one  talent  common  to  all." 
"And  what  was  the  napkin  wherein   he  buried   it?"  asked 
Hester. 

"Disorder,  doubtless;  for  you  can  bur>'  more  time  in  disorder 
than  in  any  other  Avay." 

"  I  must  be  very  disorderly,  then,"  laughed  Helen,  "  for  since 
I  went  to  housekeeping  I  have  no  time  for  anything;  you  have 
no  idea  how  behind-hand  I  am.  i  have  not  opened  my  piano 
except  on  a  few  evenings ;  I  have  a  whole  basketful  of  accumu- 
lated sewing,  and  hose  for  darning ;  I  haven't  read  anything  but 
two  or  three  novels;  I  have  not  done  a  bit  of  fancy-work — " 

"My  dear  girl!"  I  cried,  "  if  this  is  your  recoid  now,  what 
will  become  of  you  when  cares  increase  ? — say,  for  instance,  if 
there  were  two  or  three  little  ones." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Helen  ;  "  I  should  have  to  set 
up  another  servant  or  two,  and  then  we  should  be  bag-  of  rags, 
and  all  our  buttons  would  be  off,  I  expect." 

"  Indocd,  Helen,"  I  urged,  "there  must  be  a  sad  mistake  some- 
where if  you  have  reached  this  result.  Living  here  in  the  vil- 
lage, with  but  two  in  the  family,  you  have  a  very  modicum  of 
household  cares;  what  think  you  of  young  wives  on  farms  who 
have  chicks  to  feed,  several  hands  to  cook  for,  butter  to  make, 
oftentimes  no  servant,  or  but  a  young  girl  ?  and  yet  nearly  all 
of  them  would  make  a  better  showing  than  this.  I  remember 
when  Cousin  Ann's  three  elder  children  were  little  things,  and 
she  kept  but  a  half-grown  girl.,  th.cre  were  no  racrs  and  no  mend- 
ing  in  arrears,  and  all  the  farm-work  being  done  by  half-past 


ORDER    IN   THE   HOME.  «- 

nvo,  she  could  sit  doun  to  rnake  or  mend,  and  in  the  evening 
P.ck  up  a  book  o,-  a  newspaper.     She   made  a  point  of  reading 
-  much  as  she  could,  so  as  to  be  able  to  interest  and  instruct 
her  ch.ldren.     Her  son  Reed's  wife  has  a  young  cl,ild  and  keeps 
no  help;  she  sends  butter  and  eggs  to  market,  and  manages  so 
wdl  m  all  her  work  that  she  has  spare  hours  for  making  pretty 
and  useful  things  for  her  house,  for  reading,  and  for  doing  all 
her  own  sewing,  and  not  being  behind-hand  with  it      Depend 
on  ,t,the  secret  lies  in  industrious  order-in  what  is  called  good 
management." 

"  But  I  cannot  understand  it,  Helen,"  said  Miriam :  "  your 
house  has  only  ten  rooms  beside  the  bath,  and  you  keep  a 
sen'ant :  where  does  your  time  go  ?  " 

"  How  c-m  /  tell  where  it  goes,  when  I  never  can  find  it?" 
grumbled   Helen.     "  I  dare  say  j-.;.  don't  understand  i:-      Why 
aunt,  there  is  Miriam  doing  the  most  of  her  own  work-  no 
matter  when  I  go  there,  the  work  is  all  done;  the  house  is  neat 
asapm;  Miriam  is  sitting  at  her  reading  or  her  sewing;  .she 
has  made  perfect  gems  of  fancy  things  that  stick  here  and  there 
m  her  house;  even  in  her  kitchen  she  has  fancy  wall-pockets  for 
stnng.  paper  and  little  bags;   fancy  holders,  a  pincushion  hung 
by  the  wmdow,  a  crocheted  scrap-bag.  and.  if  you'll  believe  me 
always  a  bouquet  in  the  window !  " 

"Why  not  have  it  nice?  "said   MinWm     "Ti  .    .       , 

r.  .  J  ^'  ^»iinam.       I  have  to  be  there 

often,  and  I  can  work  faster  vhprr.  fi,-  . 

„      ,r  u  .  ■       "^"^^  ^"'"ff-^  '■^re  handy,  and  eniov 

myself  better  when  things  are  nrettv      wn       u     , ^  t 

oH,v<=r,..  •     T  ^"^c  prettv.     Why  should  I  run  up- 

want  of  a  conv.ment  bag  to  put  them  in  ?" 

"  W  hat  amazes  me  is  "  <;tiM   M/.i„«  «     i 
for  all  these  thing,."  "'     ^^'^^^  ^^^  ^^^  the  time 

•'  I  got  it  fVom  Mrs.  Burr  for  a  wedding  gift,"  said  Miriam. 
Do  explam :  I  wish  she  had  been  as  liberal  to  me." 


\    •' 


3G 


r//£    COMPLETE  HOME. 


"She  sent  Tiie  a  book  of  her  own  making,  two  boards  of  gray 
Bristol,  bound  in  red  satin  and  painted  with  one  of  her  lovely 
landscapes.     Inside  was   only  a  single  page:   that  was  white 
Bristol,  illuminated  with  a  wreath  of  flowers,  bees  and  butterflies 
and  this  motto  within:  'Always  be  one  hour  in  advance  of  your 
work.'     I  saw  at  once  that  here  was  the  key  to  the  Order  that 
reigns  at  Mrs.  Burr's.     If  I  were  an  hour  beforehand  with  work 
I  should  never  be  hurried  nor  worried ;  if  I  began  at  once,  the 
habit  of  being  in  season  would  be  fixed.     I  saw  also  that  the 
one  hour  would  by  good  judgment  in  planning  grow  to  many, 
and  I  should  always  have  time  to  spare.     I  concluded  to  think 
the  housekeeping   matter  out  and   have  an  exact  routine  for 

it;  it  was  litde  trouble  to  do  that:  I  had   only  to  copy  Aunt 

Sophronia :  she  always  had  exact  order  here." 
"  But  I  hate  routine,"  yawned  Helen. 
"  Then  you  hate  what  you  never  tried,"  quoth  Hester. 
"I  believe,"  cried  Helen,  "  that  it  is  all  my  servant  that  makes 

the  difference.     You,  Miriam,  are  not  j^lagued  with  a  girl.     I 

dare  say,  Hannah  has  no  order  about  things,  and  then,  she  is  so 

slow!" 

"  But  you;  as  her  mistress,"  I  said,  "  hnve  a  right  and  a  duty 
to  arrange  an  order,  and  see  that  it  is  maintained ;  if  there  is  no 
order,  of  course  she  will  be  slow ;  disorder  is  the  slowest  worker 
in  the  universe.  Have  you  any  fixed  time  for  anything  ?  When 
do  you  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Wnen  the  breakfast  is  ready,"  cried  Helen,  "  and  the  same 
for  dinner  and  tea ;  only  Hannah  is  prompter  with  tea,  so  that 
she  can  get  out." 

"And  on  what  day  do  you  make  your  bread  ?  " 
"  Why,  when  the  bread  runs  out,  and  usually  Hannah  '  forgot,' 
or  '  didn't  know,'  or  something  of  that  kind,  and  we  have  a  day 
of  baker'-:  bread." 
"And  do  you  not  look  after  the  state  of  the  bread-box  and  see 


% 


ORDER   IN  THE   HOME. 


37 


<Aat  Hannah  minds  her  work  ?  Do  you  not  know  how  many 
Joavos  you  need  weekly,  and  have  a  regular  day  for  baking,  one 
day  before  the  bread  is  out,  so  you  will  not  cut  hot  bread  and 
gain  dyspepsia  thereby,  while  you  waste  bread?  And  what  day 
have  you  for  sweeping  ?— what  day  for  washing  ?" 

"  Well,  I  try  to  have  Monday  for  washing-day,  and  Friday 
for  sweeping,  but  sometimes  we  find  ourselves  out  of  all  pie, 
cake  and  bread,  and  then  we  have  to  make  a  change.  And  if  I 
go  off  Friday  morning  expecting  Mannah  to  sweep,  I  come 
home,  and  perhaps  she  has  done  something  else— dear  knows 
what;  and  then  Saturday  all  is  fluny,  and  I  have  no  decent  place 
to  sit  down  to  my  mending,  and  it  is  put  off  until  the  next  week, 
and  then  I  am  tired,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  it  to  do,  and  so 
it  goes  on." 

"All  the  result  of  not  having  a  time  and  a  place  for  ever>'thing; 
a  lack  of  plan  and  cnrr;;y  ,  your  part,  Helen,  is  ruining  your 
servant,  and  your  domestic  comfort.  A  Household  should  have 
laws  like  the  IMcdes  and  Persians,  which  never  change ;  and 
privileges  which  arc  like  an  Englishman's  house,  an  impregnable 
casde,"  I  said. 

"Miriam,"  I  asked,  "what  and  how  much  do  you  read  and 
study?" 

"  We  take  two  monthly  magazines  and  a  daily  paper,  and  I 
read  those  regularly:  and  Mark  and  I  enjoy  talking  over  the 
news  and  the  various  articles  at  meal-times." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Helen.  "  I  haven't  read  a  paper  since  I  was 
married,  and  Frank  might  as  w.ll  talk  about  the  aff->irs  of  the 
moon  as  of  daily  news,  for  all  1  l.nov.'  of  it!" 

"Then  Frank  will  begin  to  go  from  home  for  company,"  I 
said ;  "  by  all  means  read.  Helen,  and  have  something  to  talk 
about  beyond  Hannah  and  the  butcher." 

"Go  on,  Miriam:  what  else  do  you  read?"  said  Hester. 

"I  arrange  for  an  hour  each  morning,  except  on  Saturday, 


h  >  I' 


\    i'i 


r 


38 


TJ/£   COMPLETE   HOME. 


I  :  i  i  I 


n 


ill; 

.MJi 


for  study,  and  I  spend  half  of  that  hour  on  French,  and  the 
other  half  on  History.     It  is  very  little,  and  would  not  satisfy 
such  a  student  as   you,   Hester,   but  it  serves  to   keep  those 
stud.cs  fresh,  and  I  gain  a  little.     Then  I  have  always  on  hand 
a  bod<  or  two:  the  popular  book  of  the  n.onth,  or  something 
that  Mark  has  read  and  likes,  or  that  some  one  who  knows 
about  books  has  recommended  to  me,  and  that  keeps  my  mind 
fresh  and  active.     I  get  what  books  and  articles  I  can  on  house- 
keepmg,  on  cooking,  furnishing,  decorating,  repairing,  window 
gardenmg,  anything  that  will  serve  to  improve  our  home  at 
small  cost,  or  save  expense,  and  introduce  variety;  and  I  have 
set  up  a  scrap-book  of  valuable  items." 

"But  where  do  you  get  the  time?  for  I  often  find  you  at 
sewmg  or  fancy  work,"  said  Helen. 

"I  took  from  the  very  first  an  hour  a  day  for  sewing;  thai  ^o 
far  does  for  my  mending,  and  keeps  mo  with  work  in  advance 
finished.     When  I  feel  inclined  for  fancy  work,  and  on  rainy 
days  when  there  are  no  calls,  and  in  evenings  when  friends  drop 
m   T  can  do  a  good  deal,  if  it  is  all  at  hand  in  my  basket.     \  go 
out  every  day.  sometimes  in  the  morning,  to  give  the  order,  at 
the  grocers  and  market,  and  as  I  keep  a  list  of  needs  in  my 
Icitchen-book.  I  am  saved  the  trouble  of  frequent  errands;  and 
one  afternoon  in  a  xveck  I  give  to  social  duties,  calls,  visits  and 
the  like ;  and  so  I  find  time  for  ever)'thing." 

"  Because  you  have  a  time  for  cver>'thing.  Are  not  your 
meals  at  a  set  time?  Don't  you  have  a  set  time  for  each  kind 
of  house-work  ?  "  asked  Hester. 

"On  Monday  my  laundress  comes  early.  She  washes  our 
c  othes-of  course  It  is  a  small  wash.  While  they  arc  diying 
she  scrubs,  blacks  the  stove,  cleans  windows,  or  does  anything 
I  want  her  to  do.  Then  in  the  afternoon  she  irons  the  clothes' 
after  tea  I  mend  them  and  put  them  away.  She  is  a  strnn. 
Hcfve  woman,  able  to  give  a  good  day's  work,  and  I  pay  heT 


ORDER   IN    THE   HOME. 


39 


considerably  over  the  ordinary  price  for  the  sake  oi  thorough- 
ness and  despatch.  She  finds  everything  ready  for  her  work 
when  she  comes,  and  with  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  for  her  dinner, 
she  gets  done  without  over-fatigue." 

"  Why  Hannah  dawdles  all  day  over  just  our  little  wash," 
complained  Helen. 

I  resolved  to  find  out  some  time  the  "reason  why"  of 
Hannah's  "  dawdlingy 

"  Friday  is  my  sweeping-day ;  and  on  Saturday  I  bake  bread, 
pies,  cake,  apples,  a  variety  of  things,"  said  Miriam. 

"And  you  do  all  your  own  work  besides?"  asked  Helen. 

"The  laundress' toy  comes  to  clean  the  front-steps  and  tho 
grass-plot— he  does  any  little  thing  I  need." 

"  Dear  me !  and  your  hands  don't  look  any  the  worse  for  it, 
either,"  said  Helen. 

"  I  take  care  of  them,"  said  Miriam.  "  I  have  a  mop  for  the 
dishes,  and  a  high-handled  scrubbing  brush  for  pots  and  pans, 
and  a  cork  two  inches  high  for  polishing  the  knives — and 
nothing  is  so  nice  for  knives  as  corks  for  the  bath  brick  and 
the  after  rubMng— and  I  use  gloves  when  I  sweep  and  dust,  and 
whenever  else  I  can.  I  shall  not  sacrifice  my  hands  needlessly, 
nor  shall  I  sacrifice  my  work  to  save  my  hands." 

"  Now  tell  me  why  you  don't  keep  a  girl  ?  "  asked  Helen. 

"As  a  matter  of  economy,"  said  Miriam.  "  Mark  has  only 
a  thousand  a  year.  We  a/u/d  keep  a  girl,  and  he  urged  it ;  but 
I  am  amply  able  without  the  least  injury  to  myself  to  do  this 
work.  If  we  kept  a  servant,  with  the  wages,  the  board  of  tho 
sen-ant,  and  the  fact  that  she  would,  however  well  watched,  bi* 
less  saving  than  I  am,  our  living  expenses  would  be  increased 
by  one-third.  Without  the  servant  wc  can  lay  up  something, 
and  we  can  buy  more  book.s,  and  give  ourselves  various  little 
gratifications.  There  w;>s,  in  (:irt,  nothing  to  sacrifice  but  a 
little  false  pride,  and  I  dared  to  be  independent." 


'  'Bl  iJ' 


40 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


■j  I    1  ;  , 


^1 


■ 


I'^'i  1 


"  Why  is  it  that  maids  arc  bound  to  be  less  economical  than 
their  mistresses  ?"  asked  Hester. 

"Because  their  money  is  not  invested  in  tlie  housekeeping" 
said  I ;  "  tiie  dollar  saved  u  ill  not  go  into  their  pockets ;  so,  ev^e'n 
A-ith  average  honestj'  and  economy,  they  will  throw  away  far 
more  than  the  mistress.  Human  honesty  is  a  curious  affair  and 
embraces  very  many  degrees.  '  The  cloak  of  truth  is  lined  with 
lies,'  saith  Longfellow's  'Aromatic  Jew.'" 

"  You  remind  me  of  our  Nora,"  .said  Hester.  "  I  met  Iicr 
going  out  with  a  pail  of  milk  .-she  .said, 'Sure  the  bye  left  me 
Ann  Skinner's  pint,  and  her  mc  quart.  Troth  Tm  on  me  way 
to  change  the  same.'  'I  should  think,'  I  .said,  'that  Ann  would 
have  seen  the  error  before  now;  he  h:ft  her  the  milk  first '  'Aa 
a-//;'  should  Ann  see  it?  '  says  Nora:  '../..  has  the  quart.-' 

"Just  give  me,  Mirian,,"  I  said,  afte,  we  had  laughed  at  Nora's 
logic,  "a  sketch  of  your  day." 

"We  rise  at  .seven;  by  eight  breaklast  is  ready,  and  while  it 
H-as  cooking  I  -uad  set  the  table  and  put  n,y  bed-roon.  in  order. 
Always  by  half-past  nine,  .sometimes  sooner,  n,y  work  is  done. 
Then  I  take  my  hour's  stu<ly.     After  that  I  sometimes  go  out 
or  shopping,  or  leaving  orders.     If  „ot.  I  .sew  an  hour     Then 
I  bcgm  to  get  dinner,  and  intennixed  wi.h  that  con.es  generally 
ha^f  an  hour  or  so,  while  things  are  cooking,  when  I  can  read. 
After  dinner  ,s  out  of  the  way  I  dress  up  for  afternoon  ;  if  I  have 
not  been  out  in  the  nu.rning.  I  go  out  then  ;  if  I  have,  or  it  ra-ns 
I  have  fancy-work  or  reading  to  occupy  n,o.     I  do  not  usually' 
cook  anything  for  .supper,  except  the  tea.     I  have  cake,  fruif 
^old  meat  sandwiches,  salads;  there  are  plenty  of  nice,  sin.plj 
^^:ng.s  ;,f  there  i.s  a  .salad.  I  prepare  it  while  I  am  getting  dinner, 
afore  I  go  to  bed  I  go  to  the  kitchen,  see  that  the  tea-kettle  i., 
filK^c    put  the  rice,  or  cracked  wheat,  for  breal.  fast,  to  .oak.  and 
^athe  potatoes  ready;  this  takes  me  only  a  few  minutes  and 


saves  mc  a  deal  of  ti 


me  m  the  morning.     If  Mark  had  to  be 


ut 


ORDER  IN  THE  HOME. 


41 


his  business  before  nine,  or  did  not  come  home  until  the  five 
o'clock  dinner  that  some  have,  of  course  I  should  only  <r^c\. 
myself  a  lunch,  and  there  would  be  a  deal  more  time  for  the 
books  or  needle-work,  but  I  have  plenty  of  time  as  it  is.     Satur- 
days I  neither  study  nor  sew ;  I  have  the  baking,  which  tak-cs  al 
the  morning,  and  I  go  up-stairs  for  a  while  in  the  evening  tc 
sort  and  mend  the  clothes  for  Monday's  wash.     Friday  I  su^cep, 
and  that  uses  up  the  time  of  the  walk,  the  reading  and  the  fancy- 
work.     But  I  always  have  time  to  go  anywhere  with  Mark,  or 
to  see  our  friends,  or  for  anything  extra.     I  never  feel  hurried 
at  all-thanks  to  Mrs.  Burr's  rule,  and  yours,  aunt,  of  having  a 
set  tir-     '  -  everything,  and  a  place  for  everything." 

O  ersation  had  extended  past  dinner  and  nearly  through 

the  af'.ernoon. 

For  some  weeks  thereafter  I  was  absorbed  by  Hester's  prep- 
arations for  departure.  In  her  own  and  her  fathers  atrocious 
neglect  of  proper  dress,  I  feared  she  would  go  off  deplorably 
shabby.  I  poured  out  my  complaints  to  Mrs.  Winton.  "  See 
how  Hester  looks:  her  clothes  have  no  fit;  John  is  so  absurd 
in  his  ideas ;  the  girl  never  dresses  like  other  people." 

"The  evil  is  not  in  Mr.  Rocheford's  ideas,"  said  Mrs.  Winton: 
"he  is  right  in  the  opinion  that  the  human  figure  should  be' 
allowed  a  natural  development,  without  any  compressions;  vig- 
orous health  and  true  beauty  of  form  will  thus  be  secured,  'you 
have  .  ,ften  admired  the  upright  and  elegant  person  and  carriage 
of  my  daughter  Grace :  she  has  never  worn  any  article  of  dress 
from  a  gown  to  a  glove,  which  pressed  upon  her,  or  in  any  way 
changed  or  hindered    her  natural  growth.     The  trouble  with 
Hester  is.  that  from  the  extreme  of  anxiety  about  dress  In  which 
some  gnls  indulge,  she  has  made  the  rebotmd  of  entire  careless- 
ncss ;  her  clothing  Is  neither  properly  made  nor  properly  put  on 
I  pred.ct  for  her  th.  soon  rcac!,ing  a  happy  mean,  and  being  a 
model  of  taste  and  neatness,  while  she  eschews  extravagance  and 


\        Ml 


!l  11 


42 


7V/£:    COMI'LETE  HOME. 


display.  The  good  order  wliich  pervades  her  studies  will  soon 
permeate  all  her  life  :  her  cultivated  taste  will  direct  her  to  fit 
ness  and  beauty;  it  is  well  for  her  to  go  away  to  school-  she 
will  be  brought  into  companionship  with  some  good  and  con- 
genial  woman,  who  will  become  her  model.  It  is  most  danger 
ous  to  neglect  the  greater  for  the  less :  Hester  has  been  neglect 
mg  the  less  for  the  greater;  but  increased  mental  training  will 
produce  harmony  in  her  mind,  and  she  will  give  less  its  full  and 
p-opcr  place." 

I  began  to  think  Mrs.  VVinton  was  right,  when  on  going  to 
see  Hester,  I  found  how  nicely  .she  had  packed  her  trunk  She 
explained  it  by  stating,  that  first  she  had  packed  her  books  and 
pictures  hand.somely,  "because  she  loved  them,"  and  then  she 
thought  that  the  care  which  was  good  for  them  would  serve  as 
well  for  other  things,  and  so  I  found  her  surveying  with  much 
satisfaction  the  work  of  her  hands. 

As  I  heartily  abhor  an  untidy  woman,  I  gave  Hester  some 
advice  about  clean  collars  properly  put  on,  neat  hair,  and  the 
excellence  of  neck-tics  and  white  aprons.    I  ;:aid  to  her:  "  Hester 
there  is  neither  honor  nor  advantage  in  the  neglecting  of  little' 
things.     God  makes  the  flower  which  is  to  perish   un.scen  in 
secret  noo!:s  as  perfect  as  that  destined  to  bloom  before  millions 
of  admirers;   he  carves  with  the  .same  exquisite  symmetry  the 
shell  which  is  .so  .small  as  to  be  almo.st  microscopic,  and  the  great 
treasure  of  the  sea.    God  slights  nothing.    They  who  love  good- 
ness and  bc.iuty  for  their  own  rakes  will  slight  nothing.    An  old 
writer  .says:  'Manners  maky.h  man.'    Chesterfield  advises;  Tre- 
J^are  yourselves  for  the  world  as  the  athleta:  u.scd  to  do  for  their 
exerci.ses :  oil  your  mind  and  your  manners  t.^  give  them  tlir 
needful   suppleness  and  flexibility:  .strength  alone  will  not  do.' 
Cultivate  graciousncss  as  a  duty,  and  cultivate  as  a  duty  also  a 
harmonious  neatness  and  beauty  in  appearance  and  in  all  that 
you  do.     rcoplc,  Hester,  judge  us  by  what  they  see.     Let  not 


ORDER   IN  THE  HOME. 


43 


vour  good  be  evil  spoken  of,  but  let  your  zeal  for  knowledge  be 
comnicnded  by  order  and  harmony  in  all  that  you  do." 

After  Hester  was  gone  I  had  i.iorc  time  to  visit  my  other  two 
nieres,  and  as  I  was  lonely  I  paid  more  calls  than  usual  to  my 
friends  in  the  village.     The  subject  of  Order  in  the  Household 
was  much  in  my  mind,  and  I  quietly  gathered  up  many  hints 
concerning  it.    I  went  one  Tuesday  morning,  about  nine  o'clock, 
:o  call  upon  Helen.     As  my  ring  was  not  answered,  I  went 
round  to  a  side  door  opening  into  the  dining-room,  and  walked 
ill.     The  door  was  open  between  the  dining-room  and  kitchen, 
and  I  saw  that  Hannah  had  just  finished  doing  up  the  breakfast 
dishes,  and  was  preparing  to  do  the  washing,  which  had  been 
"  put  off"  from  the  day  before.     I  always  send  my  wasiiing  to 
the   kitchen   sorted— a   bag  of  coarse   clothes,   a   bag  of  fine 
clothes,  and   the  colored   clothes  and  flannels   by  themselves. 
This  fixcilitates  the  work  of  the  laundress ;  she  sees  all  that  she 
has  to  do,  and  she  is  not  delayed  in  picking  the  wash  over.     I 
trust  Helen's  style  of  sending  down  a  wash  is  peculiar  to  herself. 
The  door  of  the  back  stairs  was  open,  and  down  these  stairs  had 
been  flung  an  avalanche  of  soiled  clothes— towels,  sheets,  shirts, 
ho.se  and  table  linen  promiscuously  tumbled  into  the  kitchen, 
and  lying  along  the  steps.     Hannah  lazily  gathered  up  some  of 
these  pieces,  and  dropped  them  into  her  tub.     A  [)air  of  colored 
hose  went  in  tangled  up  in  Frank's  best  shirt,  and  I  perceived 
that  Helen's  nicest  collar  was  kicked  by  the  unobservant  maid 
into  a  pile  of  towels.     I  saw,  also,  that  the  clothes  had  not  been 
mended;  a  skirt  of  Helen's,  who  wears  her  white  skirts  trained 
md  dragging  upon  the  side-walks,  had  half  a  yard  of  the  rufflin-^ 
torn,  and  hanging  in  a  great  loop;  and  one  of  the  sheets  was 
also  rent.     I  went  up-stairs'to  Helen.     She  was  rocking  in  the 
easy-chair  in  her  pretty .  room,  with  a  face  of  discontent.     She 
cried,  as  soon  as  she  saw  me,  "  O,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.     I'm  sick 
9f  housekeeping,  and  I'm  dreadfully  blue :  all  things  go  in  such 


44 


Tim    COMPLETE  HOME. 


i|i'i 


I 

I! 

1^ 


a  turmoil  here !  Yesterday  Hannah  did  not  wash,  because  she 
thought  it  would  rain,  and  now  she  has  hardly  begun,  and  she'll 
be  until  tea-time  at  it,  and  a  helter-skelter  dinner  too.  Then 
Frank  has  asked  two  gentlemen  to  tea  to-morrow,  and  there 
should  be  cake  and  floating  island  made,  and  the  ironing  will  be 
lying  about;  it  will  be  noon  before  Hannah  folds  the  clothes, 
and  only  see :  I  put  this  lace  set  in  last  week,  and  look  how  it  is 
torn,  and  I  want  to  wear  it  to-morrow,  and  it  will  take  me  forever 
to  mend  it." 

"  Now,  Helen,"  I  said,  "you  need  a  good  plain  talking  to,  and 
as  I  shall  give  it  to  you,  I  hope  you'll  receive  it  kindly,  and 
profit  by  it.  As  for  your  washing,  it  should  have  been  done 
yesterday.  Then,  if  it  had  rained,  the  white  clothes  could,  most 
of  them,  have  been  left  in  a  tub  of  light  bluing-water,  and  have 
been  put  on  the  line  early  this  morning,  while  a  frame  full  of 
towels,  hose  and  colored  clothes  could  have  been  dried  in  the 
kitchen,  and  Hannah  could  be  ironing  them  now.  Your  maid 
is  disorderly;  but  don't  complain  of  that,  when  her  mistress  has 
no  idea  of  order."  And  so  I  told  her  how  I  had  seen  her  clothes 
tossed  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Well,  aunt,  what  ought  I  to  do  ?  "  asked  Helen. 
"  I  should  say,  go  r.ght  down-stairs,  and  yourself  sort  the 
clothes  that  are  lying  about,  and  bring  those  torn  pieces  up,  and 
mend  them  before  Hannah  is  ready  for  them.  It  takes  twice  as 
long  to  wash  ragged  clothes  as  it  does  to  wash  whole  ones. 
Just  tell  Hannah  kindly,  that  you  intend  to  have  a  new  style  in 
the  washing,  and  that  she  must  be  brisk,  and  that  all  the  clothes 
must  be  neatly  folded  in  the  basket,  before  she  goes  out  this 


evcnmg. 


Helen,  seeing  me  reach  out  my  hand  for  her  t^rn  lace,  with 
evident  intention    of  darning  it,  started  for   her 
presently  rpturned  with  the  torn  skirt  and  shec 
Bt  her  nicndinsr. 


kitchen 
and  set  brisk 


and 


:ly 


ORDER   IN  THE  HOME. 


45 


"  Do  the  ^\i\x\.  first,  because  she  will  want  to  wash  that  first— 
the  starched  pieces  should  have  the  precedence,  as  they  take 
longer  to  dry.     Now,  Helen,  I  will  mend  this  set,  and  hereafter, 
do  as  I  do :  I  always  wash  my  own  lace  and  fine  embroidery. 
The  best  intentioned  maids  will  destroy  these  things  sooner  than 
their  owner.     The  maids  have  neither  to  buy  them  nor  repair 
them,  and  human  honesty  has  its  varieties ;  so  docs  human  isrno- 
ranee.     Hannah  very  likely  rubbed  this  set  on  the  board,  and 
then  boiled  it.     Have  a  little  bag  in  your  bed-room,  and  throw 
this  kind  of  finery  in  it  as  it  becomes  soiled.     When  it  has  accu- 
mulated, put  the  pieces  to  soak  in  weak  borax  or  ammonia 
water ;  some  evening,  wash  them  up  lightly  with  your  hands  and 
fine  toilette  soap;  next  morning,  scald  them.    Starch  the  embroid- 
ery, and  iroi,  it  on  the  wrong  side,  laid  on  a  piece  of  fine  flannel. 
The  lace,  rinse  in  weak  gum-water ;  stretch  it,  and  pin  it  on  a 
pillow,  though  some  kinds  can  be  ironed  between  two  pieces  of 
flannel.     On  washing-days  you  should  insist  on  having  Hannah 
rise  early,   and    begin   washing   before    breakfast.      Have   the 
clothes  ready  for  her  in  bags ;  have  a  breakfast  that  is  easily 
gotten,  and  needs  few  pots  and  pans.     Arrange  for  a  dinner, 
which  shall   be   but   little  trouble,  and  give  some   help  about 
preparing  it ;  you  can  set  the  table,  and  make  the  dessert ;  and  so 
you  will  encourage  your  maid,  and  have  a  better  meal,  for  there 
IS  no  propriety  in  making,  by  means  of  bad  meals,  the  washing- 
day  a  terror  to  Frank,  as  if  he  were  an  evil-doer. 

"To-morrow  let  Hannah  get  at  her  ironing  as  soon  as  she 
has  cleared  away  the  breakfast  dishes ;  if  her  clothes  are  ready 
folded  in  the  basket  she  can  go  briskly  to  work ;  and  do  you 
prepare  the  cake  and  floating  island  yourself:  there  will  be  a 
good  fire  in  the  range,  and  you  will  find  it  little  trouble.  In 
fact,  Helen,  if  you  do  not  turn  over  a  new  Icajf  and  have  order 
in  your  house,  your  housekeeping  will  be  more  and  more  a 
miserj-  to  you ;  you  will  become  petulant  and  moping  under  tha 


ir\ 


:>    li 


16 


'  If 


,,i  I 


r//E   COMPLETE  HOME, 


burden;  Frank  will   find  you   less  a-reeable,  and  will   wonder 
why  his  home  has  no   regularity.      His   clothes  and  drawera 
being  out  of  order,  and  his  meals  at  irregular  hours    he  will 
have    cause   for   complaint,  and   become,  by  degrees,'  a  fault- 
finder.    Your  se.-vant  will   go  from   bad  to  worse,  for  it  is  very 
easy  in  this  naughty  world    to   improve   backwards—?,^  cares 
mcrease,  the  complications  of  disorder  will  increase.     Tell  me 
Helen,  have   you   a   place  for  everything?     Arc   your  bureau' 
drawers  .n  order,  and  has  each  one  its  own  appointed  contents 
so  that  you  could  find  what  you  want  in  the  dark?     In  your 
dining-room,  has  your  china-closet  a  fixed  place  for  everything? 
•so  of  your  store-closet,  and  your  tin-closet?     Have  you  fixed 
places  for  your  bed  and  table  linen  ?     Are  your  kitchen  towels 
m  a  drawer  of  their  own,  or  do  you  and  Hannah  consume  five 
Icn,  twenty  minutes  here  and  there  looking  for  things  ?  " 

"Dear  me!"  cried  Helen:  "ver/  little  is  in  order,  and  it 
looks   a  prodigious  task   to   put    things    in    order,  and   make' 
Hannah  orderly,  or  be   so   myself     If  J  had  only  begun  so 
W'hen  I  was  married  !  " 

•'  But  it  will  be  a  deal  easier  to  reform  now  than  next  year  ; 
yoH  had  better  inaugurate  order  at  once." 

"Vou  see;-  continued  Helen,  "grandma  is  a  good  house- 
keeper, m.t  .he  did  not  care  to  be  troubled  teaching  me  and  I 
d.d  not  hke  to  be  bothered  with  learn:ng.  and  wo  both  kept 
saymg  't.me  enough.'  So  the  chambermaid  took  care  of  my 
room,  and  grandma  did  my  mending  if  it  was  troublesome  and 
put  my  bureaus  to  rights  every  now  and  then  for  me.  and  now 
really,  aunt,  order  is  not  in  me." 

"You  must  attain  to  it,"  I  said,  "or  you  will  have  a  very 
unhappy  married  lif..  An  acquaintance  of  mine,  one  of  the  most 
prematurely  aged,  fretted,  worn-out  women  I  ever  saw,  wrecked 
her  home  on  this  rock  of  Disorder.  When  I  knew  her  she  had 
t!x  children;  not  one  of  them  had  a  drawer  or  closet  for  their 


ORDER   IK   THE   HOME. 


47 


own  clothes ;  the  stockings  were  mended  or  not,  as  it  happened 

and  when  it  happened ;  when  mended,  pairs  were  not  rolled 

tog.'ther,   but    the    family   supply   tumbled    into   a   basket   or 

drawer,  and  at  the  cry,  '  I  want  a  pair  of  stockinets,'  came  the 

reply  '  to  go  and   look  for  them,'  and  the  little  ones  wore  odd 

hose  as  often  as  mates.     Sunday  morning  was  a  scene  of  worry : 

buttons  off,  hats  mislaid,  shoes  lost.     The  muff,  last  worn  in. 

car!)'  spring,  was  tossej  upon  a  wardrobe,  or  on  the  spare-room 

bed,  and  found  next  fall  dusty  and  moth-eaten ;  the  parasols, 

used  last  on  some  Fall  day,  were  stood  in  a  closet,  or  behind  a 

door,  or  laid  on  the  bureau  of  the  vacant  room,  and  spring  found 

them  faded,  dirty  and  mice-gnawed.    Spasmodic  housc-clcanings 

availed  little,  as  disorder  began  again  as  soon  as  things  were 

put  to  rights.     No  one  was  ever  contented  nor  sure  of  anything. 

The  house-mother  was  always  tired,  never  had  time,  was  always 

in  a  worry  and  nervous.     A  good  cook  and  seamstress,  she 

accomplished  nothing  by  her  knowledge,  for  v,'here  she  built  up 

by  '  knowing  how,'  she  pulled  down  by  disorder.     Neither  her 

husband  nor  children  thought  their  home  a  '  nice  place : '  it  was 

to  them  no  centre  of  their  desires,  no  model,  no  'dear  nest,* 

whither  they  would  always  fly.     I  tell  you,  Helen,  in  a  Home  it 

must  be  order  or  ruin.     Order  is  to  the  house  as  morality  to 

the  human  being — a  sheet-anchor." 

The  next  day  I  went  to  sec  Miriam.  It  was  about  nine 
o'clock,  and  my  niece  was  just  taking  her  place  in  the  sitting- 
room  window.  She  beckoned  me  in.  I  said  :"Ahl  this  is  the 
time  when  you  study." 

"  That  is  nothing,"  she  said ;  "  I  am  alwa/s  learning  when  I 
talk  with  you.  Let  us  have  a  morning  visit ;  you  shall  stay  to 
dinner.  I  can  pursue  my  sewing  and  fancy  work,  and  the  ijtudy 
nan  conic  in  by  itself  some  other  hour  in  the  day." 

Miriam's  sitting-room  was  in  Invclv  ord^rr.  She  is  tn.'!n<? 
window  gardening,  and  had  a  jardinet  in  one  window  in  fine 


iif 


48 


T//£:   COMPLETE  HOME. 


S.11.     Mark  had  niade  for  it  a  rustic  frame  three  inches  hiH.  and 
Minam  had  lined  that  with  moss,  and  planted  in  the  moss  com- 
men  vines  as  "Love  Entangled,"  "Wanderin,  Jew."  "Money 
Wort,     and  "Parlor  Ivy;"  these  drooped  nearlv  to  the  floor 
Inside  the   moss   luung  she   had   set  an  old-fashioned  square 
dnppmg-pan,  and  filled  it  with  rich  earth  well  piled  up-  in  the 
centre  and  in  each  corner  was  a  green  flower-pot  with  J  thrifty 
geran.um  or  Begonia;  and  between  the  pots  grew  low  ferns 
blue  and  pink  oxalis,  pansies  and  other  things,  which  did  not 
demand  deep  rootage.     It  was  a  ve^^  prett>^  cheap  and  easily, 
taken-care-of  winter  garden,  and  over  it  hung  a  very  handsome 
basket  of  droopmg  plants.     I  saw  in  one  corner  a  rather  lar^^e 
basket  of  work  folded  into  neat  bundles.     I  inquired  what  it 
was.     Said  Miriam : 

"My  time  for  sewing  more  than  suffices  for  myself,  so  this  is 
some  work  for  the  Missionary  Society,  and  f^.-  the  Children's 
Home.     I  have  been  cutting  it  out  in  my  spare  time  for  a  week 
past,  and  now  it  is  ready  to  sew  upon,  and  as  it  is  here  at  hand 
I  can  set  a  good  many  stitches  at  odd  moments.     See  here  is 
some  pretty  work  I  am  doing  for  our  missionaiy-box      'l  like  to 
send  pretty  things  away,  and  I  thought  the  little  sums  I  had  to 
g.ve  m  this  way  would  go  further  if  I  bought  material  and  made 
•t  up.     If  I  have  more  time  after  that,  I  ^vill  sew  on  the  material 
of  those  who  have  no  time  to  give.     After  Christmas  I  shall 
beg.n  on  a  set  of  shirts  for  Mark.     He  will  not  need  them 
before  next  summer,  but  you  know  Mrs.  Burr's  rule  is  to  be 
before-hand  with  your  work,  and  in  warm  weather  one  feels  les, 
Ike  sewing  and  there  is  more  company,  and   Mark  and  I  may 
take  a  little  vacation." 

Mi^riam  went  up-stairs  for  some  patterns  to  show  me,  and  as  1 
heard  a  knock  at  the  kitchen  door  I  answered  it.  The  kitchen 
Was  in  beautiful       ■  •      - 


m  beautiful  order;  the  floor 


was  covered  with  oil-cloth,  and 


the  window^ 
hes  high,  and 
e  moss  com- 
V."  "  Money 
to  the  floor. 
Dned  square 
i  up;  in  the 
■'ith  a  thrifty 
/  low  ferns, 
ich  did  not 
and  easily- 
^  handsome 
'athcr  large 
■ed  what  it 


f,  so  this  is 
Children's 
for  a  week- 
re  at  hand 
ee,  here  is 
I  hke  to 
s  I  had  to 
and  made 
;  material 
s  I  shall 
;ed  them 
is  to  be 
feels  less 
d  I  may 


'.t, 


jf  i ', 


.-«' 


and  as  1 

kitchen 
oth,  and 


''iWiSWlfc'  - 


\    i-' 


M 


f' . 


thei 

The 

the 

of  V 

oftl 

oft 

shot 

in  ir 

labo 

flooi 

wise 

ham 

pots 

suita 

sauc 

thinj 

expc 

that 

her  \ 

fortl 

boile 

into  I 

launc 

begin 

bluin 

Held 

store, 

girl  f 

kitcht 

dry,  a 

dress 

imali 

attaini 


i 


ORDER   IN  THE  HOME. 


49 


there  were  rugs  of  carpet  lying  before  the  table,  stove  and  sink. 
The  fire  had  been  arranged  to  burn  low  until  needed  for  dinner; 
the  vegetables  for  dinner  were  standing  ready  in  earthen  basins 
of  water.     I  was  glad  to  see  that  the  table  and  the  wood  work 
of  the  sink  were  covered  with  oil-cloth.     This  saves  a  great  deal 
of  time  and  of  hard  work  in  scrubbing.     Young  housekeepers 
should  remember  that  they  cannot  practise  truer  econ  .ny  than 
in  investing  a  little  money  in  things  that  shall  spare  them  severe 
labor,  and  save  their  time,  as  for  instance,  coverings  for  kitchen 
floors  and  tables.     I  was  glad  also  to  see  that  Miriam  had  been 
wise  to  provide  articles  for  use  that  were  light     nd  easy  to 
handle.    Young  folks  often  strain  themselves  by  lifting  enormous 
pots  and  water-pails,  when  small,  light  ones  would  be  far  more 
suitable  for  a  small  family.     Miriam  generally  uses  white  metal 
saucepans  and  skillets  instead  of  iron.     In  her  kitchen  every, 
thing  was   handy,  to   spare   steps.     Mark  had  been   at  some 
expense  in  fitting  up  an  outer  shed-room  for  a  snug  laundry,  so 
that  the  washing  should  not  be  in  the  kitchen,  where  Miriam  had 
her  work.     He  had  had  a  new  drain  opened,  and  bought  a  stova 
for  this  work  with  a  stationary  copper  boiler,  beside  the  clothes- 
boiler.     Miriam  leaves  the  clothes-bags  there,  locks  the  door 
into  the  kitchen,  and  allows  the  laundress  to  have  one  key  of  the 
laundry  door ;  therefore,  on  Monday  morning  she  can  come  and 
begin  as  early  as  .she  likes,  and  she  always  finds  soap,  starch, 
bluing— all    that    she    needs— ready.     Now   while    I    was    at 
Helen's  the  other  day,  Hannah  left  her  tubs  twice  to  go  to  the 
store,  once  for  soap,  once  for  blue.     I  don't  wonder  that  that 
girl  never  gets  on  quickly  with  her  work.     I  saw  in  Miriam  .s 
kitchen  closet  a  shelf  with  plenty  of  bar-soap  cut,  and  spread  to 
dry,  as  this  saves  it  in  the  washing ;  she  never  gives  the  laun. 
dress  soap  that  has  been  drying  less  than  three  weeks.     It  is  by 
small  cconuiiiies  and  cares,  such  as  this,  that  large  economy  is 
attained.     One  does  not.  in  a  household,  make  some  great  fifty, 


'tH  • 


60 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


w 


or  a  hundred,  or  two   hundred   dollars  saving,  but   ft   is   the 
little  saving  of  five,  ten  and  twenty-five  cent  pieces,  of  half  dol- 
lars and  dollars,  which  in  the  year  mounts  up  to  a  goodly  sum 
total,  and  these  savings  represent  not  meanness,  but  care;  not 
cutting  down  the  rations  of  the  hired  people,  not  buying  inferior 
tea  and  flour,  and  poor  butter  whereof  less  will  be  eaten,  but  get- 
ting the  best,  and  in  quantity,  and  then  allowing  no 'wasting 
Miriam  has  in  her  laundry  closet  a  tea-pot  and  c  little  caddy 
with  some  tea,  so  that  her  laundress  can  make  herself  a  cup  of  tea 
as  soon  as  she  lights  her  fire,  and  thus  not  be  forced  to  work  on 
faint  and  hungry  until  after  the  family  have  finished  their  break- 
fast; a  plate  of  rolh  or  of  bread  and  butter  is  left  beside  the  tea- 
pot, and  thus  the  working-woman  is  heartened  for  her  toils  and 
can  comfortably  wait  for  her  later  morning  meal.     Miriam  'says 
that  next  spring  she  means  to  have  breakfast  at  half-past  seven 
and  as  during  the  summer  Mark  will  have  Mr.  Cox's  place  he 
will  be  home  for  a  five  o'clock  dinner ;  Miriam  says  she  will  then 
have  a  deal  more  time  to  herself,  and  she  means  to  do  all  her 
own  dressmaking,  and  plans  for  many  other  undertakings. 

On  Saturday,  about  five  o'clock,  I  called  upon  Mrs.  Burr.  I 
found  her  in  the  sewing-room,  rolling  up  a  bundle  of  fragments 
of  cloth.     She  said: 

"  The  seamstress  has  been  here  a  fortnight,  and  has  just  gone 
Congratulate  me!  all  our  winter  sewing  is  finished;  every  item 
for  household  or  personal  wear  is  complete;  the  last  button  is 
Bcwed  on,  and  all  articles  repose  peacefully  in  their  places." 

"You  arc  .rly,"  I  said;  "  it  is  only  the  third  week  in  Scd- 
tembcr."  ^ 

"  I  always  have  my  summer  sewing  done  in  April,  and  my 
fall  sewing  in  September;  then  when  hot  or  cold  weather  comos 
suddenly.  I  shall  not  hear  my  household  clamoring  for  garments 

th;it   arc  not  nsnHv      A    {•■y"r.,i    :_,.__i _/• 

_. .     ..  c.„.,,ii   inVcHiwr/  of  our  possessions, 

taken  in  March  and  in  August,  shows  mc  what  clothing  will  be 


ORDER  m  THE  HOME,  gj 

needed,  and  I  keep  supply  always  in  aavance  of  demand.     I 
begin  by  cutting  out  all  the  work,  doing  it  by  degrees  as  I  can 
''pare  time.     I  put  the  bundles  in  a  large  basket  here  in  the 
sewing-room,  and  with  them  the  thread,  sUk,  tape,  buttons— all 
the  needed  materials.     The  seamstress  comes  with  her  machine 
for  a  fortnight,  and  during  that  stay  I  devote  most  of  my  time 
to  superintending  or  aiding  her  work.     Then  we  are  done,  and 
before  me  lies  only  the  light  work  of  weekly  repairs." 
"  Suppose  that  you  could  not  afford  a  seamstress  ?  " 
"  Then  I  should  pursue  the  same  plan,  only  beginning  earlier, 
and  I  should  put  less  trimming  on  the  clothes,  for  I  think  it  is 
foolish  in  a  house-mother  to  cxhau.st  her  health,  and  deprive  her 
children  of  her  company,  and  herself  of  improvement,  merely 
for  the  sake  of  a  few  tucks,  ruffles  and  puffs,  the  place  of  which 
neat  hems  and  plain  edgings  can  very  well  supply." 

"And  when  is  the  House-cleaning  coming  off?"  I  asked 
"Next  week,"  said   Mrs.  Burr;  "first  the  sewing,  then  the 
house-cleaning,  and  if  nothing  unforeseen   occurs,  the  first  of 
October  shall  see  us  ready  for  winter,  our  time  generally  at  our 
own  disposal." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  "with  such  management  I  don't  wonder  that 
your  family  of  three  sons  always  find  the  mother  ready  to  be 
their  guide,  philosopher  and  friend;  that  your  house  looks  as  if 
Fairy  Order  held  the  helm ;  and  that  you  have  so  much  time  for 
beautiful  and  lucrative  work  in  your  studio." 

"  Well,"  laughed  Mrs.  Burr,  "  I  was  hern  xvith  a  mania  for 
order." 

"Of  order,"  I  replied,  "it  can  be  said  as  Shakspeare  says  of 
greatness.  Some  arc  born  orderly,  some  become  orderly  and 
others  have  order  thrust  upon  them.     You  were  born  with  a 

talent  for  order.     Mrs.  Winton  savs  1  lestcr  wi!l  U. ..„, 

and  Miriam  was.  when  I  first  took  her.  very  disorderly,  but'by 
constant  training  she  had  o.der  thrust  upon  her,  and  now  it 
reigns  in  her  homo." 


\jmi 


Jf:i-il1 


52 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


\\ 


I 


"  Order,"  said  Mrs.  Burr,  "  is  called  heaven's  first  law ;  the 
Apostle  bids  us,  '  Let  all  things  be  done  decently  and  in  order.' 
If  knowledge  is  the  mainspring  of  a  home,  order  is  the  balance- 
wheel  ;  fully  half  of  Household  miseries  arise  from  a  lack  of 
Order." 

Pursuing  my  investigations  in  regard  to  Order  in  the  Home, 
I  concluded  that  I  could  not  do  better  than  walk  out  to  the 
Ridge  Farm  and  pay  a  visit  to  my  Cousin  Ann.     We  do  not 
know  who  sat  for  the  charming  portrait  of  the  wise  Woman  in 
Proverbs :  Cousin  Ann  might  have  done  so,  if  she  had  been 
living  in  Solomon's  time.     Cousin  Ann  is  soii>c  years  older  than 
I  am,  and  when  I  was  young  I  often  paid  her  long  visits;  also 
once  I  spent  a  winter  with  her.     The  eight-day  clock,  heired 
from  Cousin  Reuben  Ridge's  father,  did  not  run  with  any  more 
perfect  smoothness  and  regularity  than  Cousin  Ann's  household. 
At  «rst  I  could  not  understand  why  it  was  that  accidents  and 
unexpected   occurrences,  guests  or  sickness,  never  threw  the 
Home  into  confusion :  things  went  on  just  the  s-me  whatever 
happened.      Cold   weather  came    remarkably   ea      •  well,   no 
worry  about  heavier  clothes,  for  Cousin  Ann  ha-    made  them 
ready  while  the  weather  was  warm.     Some  one  was  called  off  on 
a  journey :  no  cries  of  not  being  prepared,  for  Cousin  Ann  always 
had   clothes   in  readiness    in  excess  of  demand.     The  family 
were  hungrier  than  usual,  or  an  extra  hand  was  called  in :  the 
bread  did  not  give  out  and  precipitate  an  extra  baking  day,  be- 
cause Cousin  Ann  always  baked  more  than  she  thought  would 
be  needed.     I  asked  her :  "A.id  if  that  '  more '  is  not  eaten  at 
table,  is  it  wasted?"     She  replied:  "Not  at  all;  then  I  have 
.stale  bread  for  toast,  for  puddings,  for  stuffing  fowls ;  when  all 
the  bread  is  eaten,  then  I  make  other  kind  of  puddings,  stew  the 
fowls    instead   of  roasting   them—though    they  a.,       ■     'itful 
stuffed  with  mashed  potato— and  we  go  without  the    >rit 
Yes,  indeed,  the  old   clock   vtight  have    got  out  of  order, 


ORDER  IN  THE  BOMS. 


58 


Ihough  it  never  did,  but  Cousin  Ann's  house  could  not  get  out 
of  order.  Well,  as  I  said,  I  set  off  for  Cousin  Ann's  on  a 
delicious  May  morning,  which  made  the  three-miles'  walk  seem 
a  very  short  one.  Sarah,  Cousin  Ann's  daughter,  was  at  thfe 
mac'aine  making  summer  gowns  for  her  mother  and  herself.  I 
asked  after  Hattie,  the  younger  daughter,  who  is  away  at  school 
for  a  year,  and  then  I  said :  "  Cousin  Ann,  tell  me  how  it  is  that 
your  work  never  drags  or  falls  behind." 

"  Why,"  says  Cousin  Ann,  "  I  look  ahead  and  see  what  is 
coming,  and' I  keep  a  little  in  advance  of  demand.  I  don't  lose 
an  hour  in  the  morning  and  expect  to  make  it  up  in  the  evening: 
night  is  the  wrong  end  of  the  day  to  borrow  from :  work  never 
goes  briskly  in  the  after  part  of  the  day;  in  the  morning  it  is 
cool :  we  are  rested,  fresh  and  strong,  and  then  is  the  time  to  get 
the  work  out  of  the  way." 

"  I  suppo.se  you  have  a  regular  time  for  everything?" 

"I  .should  think  so,"  laughed  Sarah  :  "a  regular  month  for 
house-cleaning  and  heavy  sewing,  and  meat-curing  and  fruit- 
drying  ;  a  regular  week  for  gatheiing  herbs,  for  putting  by  winter 
bedding,  and  clothes  in  the  big  chests — all  mended  before  put 
by;  a  regular  day  for  sweeping,  cellar-cleaning,  baking,  churn- 
ing; a  regular  hour  for  milking,  hunting  eggs,  feeding  chicks;  a 
regular  minute  for  rising  and  retiring,  for  breakfast,  dinner  and 
tea;  give  Hattie  the  day  of  the  week  and  the  hour  of  the  day, 
and  she  knows  what  we  arc  doing  here  at  home." 

"  Well,"  said  Cousin  Ann,  smiling,  and  setting  her  pudding 
in  the  oven,  "that  is  the  way  to  get  through.  Nothing  is  for- 
gotten: nothing  is  left  undone.  This,  for  instance,  is  the  week 
when  the  herbs  are  cut  anJ  dried,  while  they  are  green  and 
Rtrong;  all  the  neighbors  look  to  me  for  simple  lis.  This 
week  my  girl  washes  the  blankets,  suns  the  heavy  quilts,  and 
i  clean,  mend  and  put  by  furs,  thick  clothes,  winter  hats,  and 
winter  bedding,  and  Sarah  finishes  the  summer  sewing.     In  the 


-r:'  |!( 


■A 


THE  COMPLETE   HOM>i. 


]  li  1  ■'    • 

1 

fah  .t  w,H  be  a  pleasure  to  take  out  clean  whole  things  which 
have  lam  packed  in  camphor  and  lavender;  we  also  shai!  be  aU 
ready  for  haying  and  harvesting  with  the  extra  cooking      Tust 
now  my  girl  churns  every  morning;  while  .be  doe.  thai  Tget 
breakfast,  and  little  Jack  sets  the  table  and  brings  woo.'  for  the 
bo.,  and  feeds  the  chick.;  Sarai,   n>cantime  is  a.aking  beds 
filhng  water-pitchers,  getti.,  the  sitting-room  to  rights,  and  the 
hal   and  front  porch.     When  we  sit  down  to  b  cakfa-.  the  house 
>3  clean.     As  soon  as  breakfast  is  over,  jack  cieans  up  the  back- 
door yard,  and  gels  from  the  garden  the  lettuce  or  voung    ,oens 
|or  d,.n.,  :  then  he's  off  to  school ;  I,  as  soorr  as'we  ^  the 
breakfa.1,  ^  tv  the  sprin^  house  to  the  butter  and  milk:  Sarah 
attends  to  the  pudding  or  biscuit  baking,  or  on  ironing  day  sets 
at  the  fine  i.oaing,  and  the  girl  does  up  the  br.  kfast-dishes 
deans  the  kitchen  and  makes  the  vegetables  rea  Iv  for  dinner' 
On  .vashing  day  Dick  churns  before  breakfast  so  li.at  the  eiri 
can  get  on  with  the  wash.     It  is  easy  enough,  all  o.  it,  if  you 
know  fa.rly  what  you  want  done,  and  how  to  do  it.  and  then 
don  .  dawd  e  away  any  time  thinking  what  to  do  first,  and  who 
snail  do  it. 

"I  always  thought  Order  was  a  mainspring  in  house-work,"  I 
sard,  and  novv  I  am  sure  of  it :  how  could  any  one  get  on  with 
farm-work  without  it?" 

"There  are  plenty  who  t^^  it,"  said  Cousin  Ann,  "and  they 
are  fretted  sick  and  grow  old  before  their  time,  besides  being 
h.ndered  n.  family  comfort,  and  in  making  money.     And  ther! 
-  another  thmg  to  be  observed  in  Order:  don't  a-ou>d  work 
Notice   the   clock:  it  ticks   one   second   at  a  time,  and  gives 
each  second    its   due.     Some   folks   kill  themselves  trying  to 
wash.  iron,  bake  and  clean,  all  on  one  day.     VVe  bakeTwi!e  a 
week  and  one  of  the  baking  days  is  also  ironing  dav.  that  is 
Tuesday,  for  it  saves  having  such  a  big  fire  on  an  day 

.  ^vas  oumg  my  own  work  and  my  Ihmily  wa    ■  nailer  I 


OPDER    m  THE   HOME.  rjg 

never  did  any  baking  but  bread  on  ironing  day,  so  as  not  to 
over-do  myself;  now  I  bake  what  I  please,  and  Sarah  and 
the  girl  do  the  ironing.  I  can  tell  you,  Sophronia,  if  mothers 
would  only  look  at  the  matter  fairly,  they  would  see  that  an 
example  and  habit  of  Order  was  one  of  the  nicest  dowries 
they  could  give  a  daughter:  one  to  prolong  her  life,  to  build 
up  her  home,  and  be  always  a  source  of  comfort  to  herself 
and  family." 


I    .1  B,n^ 


i        i 


«S-^ 


CHAPTER    III. 

ECONOMY  IN  THE  HOME. 
POUNDS  AND   PENCE. 


p(^'  DON'T  think  our  little  town  ever  before  saw  such  truiy 
hard  times  as  we  are  passing  through  now.     Our  bank, 
which  wc  always  thought  as  safe  as  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land, has  failed.     Its  fall    dragged    down   two   of  our 
largest  mercantile  houses.     A  fire  last  autumn  destroyed  a  manu- 
factory, where  some  two  hundred  of  our  working-people  found 
employment.     The  flood  in  the  spring  damaged  the  roads  and 
some  of  our  public  works,  and  so  our  taxes  have  increased. 
There  is  hardly  any  one  about   here   that   does   not   feel  the 
pressure  of  these  hard  times.     Economy  must  be  the  order  of  the 
day     But  what  especially  strikes  me  is,  the  various  methods  in 
which  people  practise  their  economy,  and  the  different  effect  it 
has  on  their  minds.     Now  some  are  ashamed  of  it,  and  Iv^d  as 
soon  be  caught  stealing  as  saving. 

Among  our  other  troubles,  a  railroad,  in  which  a  good  many 
of  us  had  invested,  stopped  paying  dividends,  and  so  our 
incomes  are  lessened.  I  saw  that  I  must  reduce  my  expenses, 
and  I  sat  down  to  consider  how.  I  did  not  wish  to  cut  down 
my  giving,  for  the  harder  the  times  are  the  more  need  there  is 
of  charity.  I  had  calculated  to  fay  out  about  fifty  dollars  on 
my  winter  wardrobe,  in  work  and  material.  I  cut  that  down  to 
ten,  just  enough  to  make  over  by  myself  what  I  had  on  hand ; 
it  would  be  a  pity  if  I  were  ashamed  to  dress  according  to  m^' 

means  at  my  time  of  life.     I  always  had  kept  a  bitr  fire  all 
(66) 


ECONOMY  IN  THE  HOME 


67 


!: 
I 


xvinter  in  the  parlor:  it  looks  well,  and  I  have  the  room  comfort- 
able to  sec  my  friends.  However,  my  dining-room  is  nice  and 
always  in  order— I  can  sec  my  friends  there:  that  parlor  must 
be  shut  for  the  winter.  I  keep  only  one  servant,  Martha;  she 
is  very  efficient,  and  I  have  paid  her  very  high  wages.  I  said 
to  her:  "  Martha,  my  income  is  much  lessened  this  year,  and  I 
cannot  pay  such  high  wages  as  I  have  done.  I  think,  however, 
you  are  worth  all  you  can  get,  and  if  you  can  find  another  place! 
where  they  will  give  you  what  you  have  now.  it  will  be  right 
for  you  to  take  it." 

Martha  said  she  would  think  about  it.  At  the  end  of  a  wcck 
she  said  she  would  stay  for  whatever  I  could  give.  She 
remarked  that  a  good  home  was  a  thing  worth  keeping;  that 
when  hard  times  pressed  on  everybody,  she  did  not  expect  to 
be  the  only  one  to  escape.  She  was  very  sorry  that  I  was 
pressed  for  means,  for  her  brother  had  been  thrown  out  of  work 
and  could  hardly  feed  his  large  family,  and  Martha  had  thought 
of  asking  me  to  allow  her  niece,  ten  years  old,  to  come  to  us 
for  her  board;  that  would  relieve  her  parents  of  her  support, 
and  would  put  the  child  where,  by  learning  to  be  a  skilled 
servant,  she  could  be  in  the  way  of  making  her  living. 

I  thought  this  over.  Surely  it  was  a  work  of  charity  to  help 
the  poor  man  provide  for  his  children.  The  little  girl  would  be 
greatly  benefited.  In  hard  times  it  becomes  every  one  to  help 
his  neighbor.     I  called  Martha. 

"  Martha,  if  we  took  Ann,  do  you  think  that  by  a  little 
closer  economy  in  the  house  we  could  provide  for  her  board  ? 
We  have  never  been  wasteful,  and  we  must  not  be  mean ;  but, 
possibly,  we  could  manage  the  cooking  a  little  more  eco'nom^ 
ically,  and  have  it  just  as  good,  and  it  will  be  an  advantage 
for  Ann  to  sec  the  most  scrupulous  care  exercised  in  the 
household," 

Now  thi.  V  i„.  putting  Martha  in  a  position  where  her  interests 


!  -  ; 


08 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


I;!      I 


would  be  my  i.,-  st..  SI.e  replied:  "Well,  ma'am,  if  you're 
so  kind  as  to  t^k.  /Uiii,  I'll  not  let  her  cost  you  a  cent,  nor 
make  a  particle  of  trouble." 

"Very  well."  I  said;  "bringr  her  here,  and  train  her  carefully 
for  my  niece,  Mrs.  Rogers,  will  want  a  girl  some  day.  and  thai 
will  be  a  fine  place  for  Ann,  if  sUe  is  <.-.ei,crving." 

Shortly  after  this.  Kitty  Merry,  a  seamstress,  came  in.  She 
complained  of  the  hard  times,  and  of  lack  of  work.  She  has  a 
dollar  a  day  with  her  machine.     I  asked : 

"  Do  you  pay  more  for  your  lodging  than  last  year  ?  " 
She  said,  "  No." 

So  I  said,  "Well,  as  times  are  hard,  why  do  you  not  reduce 
your  price  to  seventy-five  cents  a  day?  People  are  economizing 
in  everything." 

"  But  I'm  worth  a  dollar  as  mu-h  as  ever." 
"Very  true;    but  why  expect  to  be  the  only  one  who   -,,es 
not  feel  the  pressure?     You  must  sacrifice  as  do  the  rest." 

"  I  think  it  is  wrong  for  folks  to  begin  their  cutting  down  on 
the  work-people,"  said  Kitty. 

"All  do  not  begin  there.     I  began  on  my  wardrobe,  on  the 
number  of  my  fires,  and  on  n.y  preserves  and  cake,  and  then  to 
the  wages.     You  must   reflect  that  there  will  be  even  larger 
demands  on  on^  charities  than  i,  .ual.     It  i.  better  for  yoP  to 
lower  your  pric    ,  and  get  full  work  at  seventy-five  cents  .x  day 
than  half  work  at  a  dollar ;  when  you  are  out  you  get  your  board- 
ing.  An  employer  <>Ka.  his  income  .-nt  down  fn.a  two  thousand 
to  fifteen  hundred,  a:.d  he  proposes  to  pny  his  servant  -,vo  a.,d 
a  half  instead  of  three  dollars.     TJ--    .ervant  gets  her  board 
and  washing  just  as  usual,  but    ries  out  against  losing  one-sixth 
of  her  cash  income,  when  th.       st.     has  lost  one-fourth  of  his. 
The  working-classes  refuse  1        .k.         s  wages ;  the  employers 
presently  find  that  they  can    get  on  .without  hiring     .rvants  ■ 
suddenly  there  is  a  host  of  the  unemployed  living  on  their  past 


ECON'OMY  m   TI/2  ROMS. 


m 


savings,  borrowing  of  each  other,  or  going  in  debt ;  and  then  a 
loud  cry  of  need  and  of  working-people  in  destitution  arises,  and 
if  employers  hire  them  again,  it  is  at  a  greater  reduction  than 
was  first  offered.  Wages  rose  with  flush  times,  and  they  must 
fall  with  close  times.  Masters  and  servants  arc  virtually  in  one 
boat,  and  must  share  the  same  storms  and  calms." 

"  Well,  Miss  Sophronia,"  said  Kitty,  "  is  that  fair  to  divide  the 
servant's  little,  because  the  master  loses  of  his  much?  You  say 
the  hired  girl  loses  a  sixth  of  her  wages;  but  it  costs  her  just  as 
much  to  buy  a  yard  of  merino  as  it  does  her  mistress;  and 
takes  just  as  many  yards  for  her  gown." 

"  It  appears  to  me,  Kitty,  that  people  should  provide  for  them- 
selves according  to  their  station   in  life.     I  don't  see  that  the 
maid  must  buy  merino,  because  her  mistress  does,  nor  that  she 
must  have  three  frills  and  a  train,  because  a  banker's  wife  docs. 
Why,  Kitty,  must  you  fret  yourself  to  death  for  money  to  buy 
two  or  three  button  kid  gloves,  and  button  boots,  and  aprons 
with  edging,  because  Mrs.  Hand  wears  them  ?     She  always  has 
iiad  these  things.     In  the  providence  of  God  she  was  born  to  it. 
You  cnn  get  good  thread  gloves,  neat  hemmed  aprons,  laced 
or  ela         boots  for  half  the  money,  and  why  not  be  suited  with 
them  ?     As  a  child  you  went  bare-footed  and  bare-handed,  and 
wore   blue   check,  and    no    shame   to   you;   you  were   always 
healthy,   honest,   cheerful,   useful   and   esteemed;    why   torture 
yourself  to  keep  pace  with  fashions  of  a   sphere  pecuniarily 
beyond  your  reach  ?     Some  day  you  may  find  large  means  at 
your  command:   be  sure   you  will  know  how  to  spend  •Mm 
without  .uiy  previous  practice." 
"And,"  said  Kitty,  "  you  think  I'd  better  reduce  my  prices  ?  " 
"Yes,  and  your  expenses.     Don't  be  ashamed  of  untrimmed, 
turned,  or  neatly  mended  clothes ;  don't  be  ashamed  of  calico. 
You'll  always  look  like  a  lady,  if  you  cultivate  the  manners  and 
scrupulous  neatness  of  a  tr;.o  lady;  and  nothmg  is  so  unrefined 
as  cheap  finery." 


'"■  J' 


III 


60 


THE    VOMPLETE  HOME. 


Mary  Semple  came  to-day.  complaining  that  she  could  not 
get  laundry  work;  people  were  giving  out  less;  she  was  out  of 
H'ork,  and  her  expenses  were  the  same  as  ever.  I  asked  her 
what  she  had  a  dozen;  she  said,  promptly,  "a  dollar,  and  for 
rough-dry,  half  a  dollar,  and  dresses  were  extra,  and  when  she 
tvent  out,  a  dollar  a  day."     I  said  to  her: 

"Just  give  out  that  you'll  take  clothes  at  seventy-five  cents  a 
dozen,  and  thirty  cents  for  rough-dry.  and    reduce  your  price 
for^gomg  out  twenty-five  cents:  you'll  get  work  enough." 
"  But  I'm  worth  as  much  as  ever,"  said  Mary. 
"True;  but  people  cannot  give   it.      Hard  times  pinch  the 
moneyed  classes,  and  they  pass  your  share  on  to  you  •  if  you 
won't  take  it  cheerfully  in   lessened  wages,  it  will  be  forced  on 
you  n.  no  work.     Half  a   loaf  is  better  than  no  bread      You 
made  no  trouble  about  a  rise  in  wages.     I  remember  when  fifty 
cents  was  a  day's  wages,  and   fifty  cents   a   dozen  good  pay 
for  washing     What  laundress  grumbled  when  prices  doubled  ?  " 
I'  I  ought  to  get  me  work's  worth,"  persisted  Mary. 
"You  can't  get  something  out  of  nothing,"  I  said ;  "  nor  more 
cash  out  of  a  purse  than  goes  in.     What  you  have  a  right  to 
cla.m  IS  prompt  pay  when  your  work  is  done.     People  have  no 
right  to  ask  you  to  take  your  pay  in  driblets  when  j-ou  do  the 
work  promptly,  nor  to  keep  waiting  and  coming  for  your  pay 
when  you  served  them  promptly.     You  estimate  people's  means 
by   houses  which  they  bought  and   furnished    in   flush  times 
You  forget  that  they  have  to  pay  taxes  and  keep  those  houses 
up,  and  that  their  property  is  often  an  embarrassment  in  hard 
times." 

"I'd  take  the  property  andth<,  embarrassment,  willing!  "  cried 
Mary.  ^ 

"Very  likely;  but  the  Lord  has  not  given  us  our  own  choice 
of  evrls.  If  he  had  we'd  manage  to  make  fools  of  our..eIve. 
Somehow  or  other." 


■*u 


ECONOMY  hV   THE  HOME. 


61 


"And  you  don't  know  any  one  to  help  me,  Miss  Sophronia," 
urged  Mary. 

"  Yes,  you  can  help  yourself  by  lowering  your  prices,  and 
economizing  a  little  closer ;  so  doing  you  will  tide  over  these 
hard  times." 

Wherever  I  go,  whatever  caller  I  receive,  there  is  the  same 
cry  of  hard  times  and  of  economy,  and  for  the  last  there  are 
dozens  of  methods.  Mrs.  Black,  for  instance,  has  taken  her 
children  out  of  school,  taken  a  poor  servant  in  place  of  a 
very  good  one,  stopped  her  contributions,  given  up  her  church 
pew,  discontinued  her  magazines  and  newspapers,  while  her 
two  grown  daughters  are  just  as  idle,  and  the  family  are  just 
as  dressy  as  ever.     Now  she  calls  that  economy — /  don't. 

I  went  to  sec  Helen.  Frank's  salary  has  been  cut  down,  and 
his  railroad  stock  is  bringing  him  nothing.  Helen  was  quite 
unhappy. 

"What  am  I  to  do ?"  she  cried.  "We  have  five  hundred  a 
year  less  to  live  on,  and  I  don't  know  where  to  lessen  expenses. 
Now  I  must  have  a  new  silk  dress :  that  will  cost  a  hundred 
dollars." 

"  Yes,"  I  said;  "and  then  you  will  want  a  new  set  of  lace  and 
a  new  hat  to  wear  with  it,  and  some  other  new  things,  and  they 
will.be  fifty  dollars  more." 

"And  where  is  the  money  to  come  from  ?  "  queried  Helen. 

"  Why  not  give  up  the  silk  ?  Your  dark-blue  and  your 
brown  silks  are  good." 

"But  I've  had  them  ever  since  I  was  married,  and  how  it 
looks  ! — always  the  same  old  dresses." 

"  But  they  are  handsome,  and  with  Kitty  Merry's  help  you 
can  put  them  into  this  year's  style.  You  will  then  feel  no  need 
of  the  little  extras  which  the  new  silk  would  demand.  Your  last 
winter's  hat,  rejuvenated  by  your  own  good  taste,  would  do  very 
well.     With  no  fine  new  dress  to  display,  you  will  care  less  for 


G2 


I 


r//£:   COMPLETE  HOME. 


%%\\i 


II 


!      ! 


going  into  society.     If  you  go  less,  you  will  be  at  liberty  to 
entertain    less   company;   and  if  you    entertain   less  company, 
your  housekeeping  expenses  will   be   lessened.     Moreover,  if 
you  go  out  less  you  will  have  time  to  attend  to  your  own  baby, 
and  you  can  dismiss  your  nurse-maid,  who  is  very  careless,  and 
is  likely  to  ruin  your  child,  and  the  little  one  will  thrive  better 
under  mother-care.     I  will  lend  you  my  little  Ann  now  and 
then  to  help  Hannah.     If  you  will  give  up  the  idea  of  the  new 
silk,   you    will,  in    its    consequences,  save  some   two   hundred 
dollars.     You  will  thus  be  likely  to  keep  out  of  debt ;  and  don't 
hang  the  mill-stone  of  debt  about  Frank's  neck:  it  may  ruin 
him;  and  with  an  increasing  family,  debts  will  increase  insu^ad 
of  being  cancelled." 

"But  dear  me,  aunt!     No  nurse-maid!  no  new  clothes!     To 
withdraw  from  going  into,  and  giving  companies!     How  it  will 
look!     It  would  be  an  open  declaration  of  poverty." 
^''  Not  poverty ;  but  of  needed  economy,  and  brave  honesty." 
"But,  aunt,  what  will  people  .say?" 

"  Then  you  get  the  silk,  and  you  keep  the  nurse  for  the  sake 
of  strangers'  tongues?     It  i.  a  mere  matter  of  pride ?     Now, 
Helen,  don't  let  pride  get  a  foothold  in  your  household.     What 
does  Franklin  say  of  it  ?     ■  Pride  is  as  loud  a  beggar  as  want, 
and  twice  as  saucy.      When  you  have  bought  one  fme  thing 
you  must  buy  ten  more,  that  your  appearance  may  be  all*  of  a 
piece;  but  it  is  easier  to  suppress  the  first  dcHrc.  than  to  .satisfy 
all  that  follow.'     Come.  Helen  :  to  save  is  to  earn:  to  earn  is 
your  husband's  part,  to  save  is  yours.     Frank  will  be  happier  at 
home  with  you  and  his  child  than  out  in  society ;  he  will  like 
privacy  more  than  the  company  that  is  bringing  him  into  debt. 
•  Every  wise  woman  buildeth  her  house,  but  the  foolish  pluckcth 
it  down  with  her  hands.'     Every  house-mother  should  begin  to 
lay  the  foundations  of  her  children's  fortune.,  and  not  introduce 
debt  as  the  moth  and  the  rust  which  will  destroy  all  accumul.v 
tions." 


ECONOMY  IN  THE  HOME. 


63 


"That  is  true,  aunt,  but  see  how  mean  it  makes  me  feel. 
There  are  the  Blacks  all  out  in  fine  new  clothes,  an4  Mrs.  West- 
cott  has  bought  new  parlor  carpet  and  curtains." 

"  You  mean  she  has  gone  in  debt  for  them.  Now,  Helen,  we 
must  not  measure  our  expenses  by  other  people's  outlays,  but 
by  our  own  purse.  How  would  you  view  Martha's  wanting  a 
Lyons  silk  because  I  wear  one  ?  In  home  living  every  one  is 
emphatically  a  law  unto  themselves.  It  is  a  false  sentiment 
which  demands  display :  this  emulation  in  domestic  establish- 
ments often  lays  the  foundation  of  ruin.  Women  ought  to  be 
able  to  create  a  public  sentiment  in  favor  of  economy  and  of  a 
simple  and  delicate  taste  in  the  administration  of  their  homes : 
they  could  create  such  a  taste  only  that  they  are  ashamed  of 
practising  economy,  and  hide  it  as  a  criiiic.  They  respect  and 
imitate  the  showy,  rather  than  the  solid.  Now,  Helen,  where 
you  stand  three  roads  meet.  Indulge  your  desires,  your  emula- 
tion of  those  who  spend  more  than  you  can  afford  to  spend,  and 
you  will  pass  along  the  road  to  ruin.  Frank  will  become  a 
broken  and  discouraged  man,  and  probably  die  early  and  in 
debt.  If  you  enter  into  no  debts  or  extravagances,  you  may 
keep  on  just  as  you  are.  with  a  very  small  margin  to  work 
upon,  and  nothing  laid  up  for  a  growing  family,  always  in  appre- 
hension  of  disaster.  By  careful  economy,  living  within  your 
means,  saving  a  little,  and  being  your  own  law  ^n  expenditure, 
you  may  enter  the  road  of  assured  prosperity.  The  hand  of  the 
diligent  maketh  rich." 

"  You  couldn't  get  ver>'  rich,  aunt,  with  such  servants  as  mine: 
they  waste  and  break  so  much." 

"  Then  if  you  keep  one  less  servant  there  is  so  much  less  of 
this  cause  of  complaint ;  if  you  will  go  about  your  own  house 
more  there  will  be  less  breakage  and  waste :  the  eye  and  hand 
of  the  mistress  always  present  is  a  great  safeguard  in  these  par- 
ticuli.fs.     As  to  breakages,  thty  arc  the  result  generally  of  care- 


J 


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l-r        —     -=   -^S»il 


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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


HI' if 


|"l 


ill 


lessness,  and  servants  have  tw  right  to  be  careless.     For  their 
own  sakes  as  well  as  your  own,  you  should  talk  the  matter  over 
kindly  with  them,  and  tell  them  that  they  must  replace  what 
they  break.     It  is  well  to  know  how  to  excuse,  to  forgive,  and 
to  relax  your  rule  on  occasion,  but  it  is  no  honesty  to  yourself, 
aor  kindness  to  your  servant,  to  allow  her  to  recklessly  destroy 
your  property.     In  your  house  she  should  be  schooled  in  care 
and  in  honesty,  so  shall  she  be  more  fitted  rightly  to  direct  her 
own.     Talk  over  matters  with  Hannah  :  tell  her  frankly  that  you 
must  use  stricter  economy ;  that  you  shaU  do  without  a  nurse, 
and  that  she  cannot  have  quite  so  much  time  for  herself;  that 
you  can  no  longer  afford  to  replace  her  breakages,  and  that  as 
you  shall  not  allow  your  narrower  means  to  reduce  her  wages, 
you  expect  her  to  help  you  save  carefully  in  your  house.    Why, 
Helen,  as  I  came  up  here,  I  saw  Hannah  scrubbing  the  porches, 
with  half  a  bar  of  fresh  soap  lying  melting  in  her  pail;  and  she 
explained  a  terrible  smell  ,M:e  in   the  kitch-.-n,  by  saying 

that  she  was  burning  •     the  bone  .  id  skin  and  trimmings  of  a 
ham,  because  '  if  she  thrc      :iu;m  n.t  it  made  the  rats  worse,  and 
the  rats  were  eating  up  ail  jour  potatoes."     Now,  child,  what 
sort  of  economy  is  this  ?     All  that  rough  fat  should  be  saved  in 
a  place  secure  from  rats,  and  Hannah  should  each  month  make 
up  a  little  keg  of  soft-soap  for  scrubbing  and  dish-washing;  and 
Hannah  should  be  taught  not  to  leave  her  bar-soap  melting  in 
the  pail;  while,  as  for  the  rats,  you  should  with  a  good  trap, 
and  caustic-potash  laid  at  their  holes,  declare  persistent  war  until 
such  destructive  pests  are  banished.     If  you  permit  mice  and 
rats  to  destroy  your  provisions,  and  stray  cats  to  rambie  into 
your  cellar— as  I  just  saw  one  doing  and  returning  with  the 
leg  of  a  fowl— there  will   be  in   your  house  a  hundred   little 
leaks,  which  it  will  take  more  than  a  hundred  one-dollar  bills  to 
stop." 

"  Oh,  aunt,  what  shall  I  dol "  cried  poor  Helen. 


^M 


ECONOMY  IX  THE  HOME. 


65 


"  Practise  economy  as  a  Fine  Art:  make  a  duty  and  a  pleasure 
of  it;  it  is  the  mortar  wherein  you  lay  up  the  walls  of  liome ; 
if  It  is  lacking,  or  is  poor  in  quality,  the  home  building  will 
crumble.  Don't  be  ashamed  of  economy:  study  it;  consult 
about  it;  don't  confound  it  with  meanness :  economy  is  the  nurse 
of  liberality.  Meanness  is  going  in  debt  for  luxury:  is  keq)in8 
behind-hand  the  wages  our  work-people  have  earned  :  is  making 
a  show  on  the  street  and  withholding  charity:  is  presenting  cake 
and  confections  ostentatiously  to  our  callers,  and  stinting  the 
kinu  or  quantity  of  our  servants'  food." 

Then  I  mvited  Helen  to  take  tea  with  me  next  day,  and  meet 
Miriam  and  Mrs.  Winton. 

Then  I  went  over  to  Miriam's.     She  was  in  her  spare-room, 
and  called  me  to  come  up. 

"What,  Miriam,"  I  cried,  "a  handsome  new  black  silk!" 
"  No,  indeed,"  said  Miriam,  "  it  is  the  old  one  that  I  have  worn 
this  four  years ; "  and  she  took  it  from  the  bed  to  display  it 
"And  how  ever  did  you  make  it  look  so  niccl>-  ?  " 
"I  sponged  it  with  a  teaspoonful  of  ammonia,  mixed  in  half  a 
pint  of  warm,  weak  coffee;  then   I  pressed  it.     I  sponged  and 
pressed  it  on  the  right  side  as  I  meant  to  turn  it.     The  velvet  of 
the  ci'ffs,  collar,  pockets,  button  covers,  and  so  on,  is  from  my 
old  black  velvet  waist." 

"  JUit  that  was  so  wrinkled  and  mussed  I  " 
"  I  steamed  it  thoroughly,  laying  it  wrong  side  dawn  on  a  wir« 
netting  over  the  boiler,  shaking  it  a  little  now  rmd  then ;  it  mad.« 
it  look  almost  like  new.  See,  lierc  is  my  old  black  cashmere ; 
I  ripi)ed  it  up,  washed  it  in  warm  water  where  soap  bark  had 
been  steeped,  and  ironed  it  on  the  wrong  side.  I  shall  get  a 
couple  of  yards  of  silk  for  trimming,  and  make  it  as  good  as 
new.  Here,  too,  is  my  ancient  brown  merino,  ripped,  sponged 
and  prnsscd,  with  a  small  investment  in  fringe  and  velveteen—it 
must  come  out  a  new  gown;  so  I  buy  nothing  this  fall.     You 


'i':' 


G6 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


i    I 


iff 


!* 


know  Mark  expected  two  Iiunclred  dollars  advance  in  liis  salary, 
and  instead,  he  gets  one  hundred  less,  so  1  must  economize 
closer  than  ever.  Mrs.  Burr  told  me  how  to  rejuvenate  my 
gowns,  and  she  has  taught  me  several  new  ways  of  economizing 
for  my  table." 

"Mrs.  Burr  is  a  perfect  Domestic  Encyclopedia,"  I  said. 
"  Pray  tell  me  some  of  her  suggestions  :  I  am  myself  retrenching, 
in  my  own  behalf,  and  for  the  sake  of  my  neighbors." 

"The    first   thing    I    think    of   is    cheese,"   laughed    Miriam. 
"  Mark  is  extravagantly  fond  of  it,  and  we  pay  eighteen  cents  a 
pound.     Mrs.  Burr  says  she  cuts  two  or  three  pounds  up  into 
squares,  and  puts  it  in  a  very  dry  place;  then  it  always  is  grated 
before  it  comes  to  tlie  table.     Used  in  this  way,  it  is  much  more 
delicate  than  cut  in  pieces,  and  one  pound  of  cheese  goes  further 
than  two  as  generally  used.     Sometimes  she  varies  the  dish  by 
mixing  a  little  parsley,  chopped  very  fine,  among  the  grated 
cheese.     She  say.-,  her   physician  told   her  that  people  do  not 
understand  the  virtues  of  parsley:  it  is  excellent  for  the  nerves, 
and  for  use  in  rheumatism,  and   should  be  constantly  used  in 
preparing   dishes.     I    have   learned   from    Mrs.  Burr   to    make 
several  new  soups;  and  a  white  soup  madj  of  fresh  bones,  with 
rice,  a  little  macaroni  or  tapioca,  cliopped  potatoes  and  chopped 
parsley  in  it,  is  delightful,  if  ynn  put  a  tablespoonful  of  catsup 
and  a  teaspoonful  of  grated  cheese  in  each  dish  as  you  serve  it. 
The  last  time  I  took  tea  at  Mrs.  Burr's,  she  had  a  vcrj'  pretty 
di.sh  of  bread,  cut  thin    in  diamonds    or  rounds,  .spread  with 
butter,  and  then  with  grated  cheese,  and  laid  on  a  little  china 
dish,  with  a  wreath  of  parsley  around  it." 

"I  remember,"  I  said,  "that  Hester  told  me  .she  should,  in  her 

housekeeping,  use  a  deal  of  parsley,  because  the  ancients  did  .so; 

that  both  Virgil  and  Horace  note  it  as  holding  an  honorable 

place  at  festivities." 

"  Mr.i.  Burr,"  continued  Miriam,  "  knows  how  to  use  up  h'ttle 


i^   •■    i 


ECONOMY  IX  THE  I/OAfE.  ^y 

things  in  her  household,  i„  a  very  appetizing  way.     You  know 
one  often  has  a  Httle  jelly  left  from  a  meal,  or  from  making  a 
cake-only  a  spoonful  or  two  goes  a  good  way,  attractively   if 
bread  is  cut  thin  in  pretty  shapes,  and  spread  lightly  with  the 
jclly.     Mrs,  Burr  said  when  her  children  were  little  these  'jelly 
breads '  ^vere  their  delight,  and  often  served  them  in  place  of 
nch  cake  or  meat  at  tea,  which  she  did  not  think  safe  so  near 
thcr  bed-time,  while  the  good  bread,  spread  with  fruit-jelly  was 
wholesome  for  them.     The  last  time  I  was  at  Helen's,  Hannah 
i^ad  thrown  away  half  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  dish  of  broken 
p.cces,  which  she  said  were  getting  mouldy,  and  were  of  no  use 
I  jnt  her  two  recipes  which  I  had  from  Mrs.  Burr.     Here  they 

^minn  handed   me  her  note-book,  and  I  copied  the  recipe 

nrcnci  Sauce.-" Cut  stale  bread  in  fine  pieces;  mix  with  it 
popper,  salt,  sweet  herbs,  a  liftle  fine  chopped  onion,  if  desired  • 
'""■sten  with  warm  water,  and  stir  in  meat-gravy  or  soup-stock 
Jiitil  ,t  ,s  nearly  as  soft  as  bread-pudding ;  bake  half  an  hour 
If  more  convenient,  milk  and  butter  can  be  used  instead  of  the 
(,'ravy." 

The  other  recipe  was — 

n>ra,iMJ^rcaH.t^'l,,y  pi,,,3  ,,  ^,^^^  ^^^^^  ^^^., 
are  hard  all  through.     When  needed  for  use  put  in  an  earthen 
chsh  m,lk  enough  to  half  cover  th.n,  a  spoonful  of  butter,  and 
one  o.    sugar;   cover  tight,  and  let  tacm  .immer.     Smooth  a 
tcaspoonful  of  corn-starch  or  of  wheat  flour  in  a  little  milk  and 

b'cakin"."''"'  "  "'"  "'  ''"  ''■"''  ''  ''''^  "^'^"^■^  "'^"^"^ 

o' 

"  They  are  both  nice  for  variety,  and  serve  a.s  a  .ood  way  to 
keep  broad-crusts  and  scraps  from  wasting,  Vou  .nn^! 
cracKor.  the  .same  way  as  that  Breakfast  Bread," 

"One  good  turn  deserves  another."  I  said.     "I  wiP  write  in 
your  notebook  my  recipe  for- 


If 


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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


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"Mock  Macaroni. — Take  broken  crackers  of  any  kind ;  crumb 
them  up  rather  fine,  and  stir  into  them  sweet  milk,  a  Httic  butter, 
pepper,  salt  and  two  tablespoonfuls  of  grated  cheese.  Have 
enough  milk  to  bake  them  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour;  let 
them  be  a  light  brown  on  top." 

"Apropos  of  the  grated  cheese,"  said  Miriam,  "last  evening 
Mrs.  Black  walked  into  my  house,  and  hunted  me  up  in  the 
dining-room — a  liberty  which  she  allows  herself  For  my  part 
I  prefer  that  my  dearest  friend  should  knock.  She  looked  at 
the  table.  'What!  pine-apple  cheese!  I  cannot  afford  that  for 
my  family  these  times.'  '  No,'  I  said,  '  it  is  common  cheese 
grated.' 

"She  looked  curiously  at  me.  'Why  did  you  say  that? 
Now  I  would  have  let  it  pass  for  pine-apple.'  I  replied,  '  Mrs. 
Black,  economy  is  honorable,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  of  practising 
it.  I  should  be  ashamed  of  any  extravagance.  If  I  did  not 
need,  as  I  do,  to  economize  for  myself,  I  should  feel  it  a  duty  to 
do  so  for  the  sake  of  oth<  rs  who  are  in  straits.'  " 

Miriam  and  I  went  down-stairs.  I  remarked:  "Your  work- 
basket  looks  like  a  rainbow." 

"Another  bit  of  economy:  all  my  neck-ties  are  getting  made 
into  the  latest  styles.  This  cream  silk  washes  as  avcH  as  muslin; 
so,  washed  and  ironed,  it  is  getting  a  frill  of  nice  lace  around  the 
ends,  and  appearing  in  a  new  character.  I  think  this  black  one 
will  be  lovely." 

She  had  made  the  scarf-tie  into  a  bow,  button-holed  the  edges 
with  rosr  colored  silk,  and  embroidered  a  pair  of  rose-buds  in 
each  of  the  ends.  A  pink  silk  tie  had  also  taken  the  form  of  a 
knot,  and  :,he  had  transferred  some  elegant  embroidery  on  the 
ends.     I  should  have  thought  it  had  just  cost  two  dollars. 

"  Mark  Rogers  will  never  be  poor  with  you  for  a  wife, 
Miriam,"  I  said.  "  He  got  a  fortune  in  the  vvife  who  said  she 
bad  no  capital.     Yours,  my  dear,  is  perpetual  capital." 


ECONOMY  IN  THE   HOME. 


69 


I  engaged  Miriam  to  come  to  tea  next  day,  and  then  intended 
k)  go  home,  but  Mrs.  Smalley  called  me  in.  She  was  com- 
plaining  as  usual— a  woman  with  many  good  points,  but  who 
does  not  know  how  to  manage,  and  is  chronically  indignant 
because  her  sister  is  richer  than  she  is.  \\^>11,  I  went  in.  She 
said: 

"I  tapped  for  you,  Miss  Sophronia,  because  I  never  make  a 
stranger  of  you,  and  you  usually  manage  to  give  me  some 
advice  when  we  are  in  a  tight  place— as  me  and  Mary  most 
generally  arc.  I  do  feel  vexed  about  Mary.  She's  as  nice  a 
girl,  and  as  pretty  a  girl,  if  I  do  say  it,  as  her  cousins,  and  it 
is  hard  that  they  have  everything  they  want,  and  she  gets 
nothing." 

"  Pshaw,  ma,"  said  Mary. 

"Its  so,"  said  her  mother.  "  Now  Smalley  has  just  said  he 
can't  afford  for  us  to  have  the  dressmaJ^er  here  this  fall,  and  we 
must  do  our  own  sewing.  'Twon't  be  such  a  heavy  job,  for 
Smalley  is  so  short  of  cash  we'll  get  precious  little  to  sew  on— 
and  there's  Sara's  girls  all  out  in  bran,  span,  new  clothes." 
"  Pshaw,  ma,"  said  Mary,  again. 

"/I's  so,"  retorted  her  mother;  "and  we  get  little  enough  time 
to  sew.     We've  had  no  girl  since  last  spring." 

"  But  you  are  only  three  in  the  family,  and  of  the  three  you 
two  are  grown  women— perfectly  well,  also.  I  should  think  j-ou 
would  get  the  work  done  easily,  having  fully  half  of  every  day 
for  sewing,  or  such  quiet  work." 

"  Well,  we  don't,  somehow.  I  keep  things  neat  as  wax,  any 
one  will  allow  that ;  and  nothing  in  the  kitchen  goes  to  waKte  : 
wc  make  our  own  soap,  and  our  own  bread  and  yeast;  and 
half  this  house  is  covered  with  rag  carpets  I  made  myself;  and 
just  .sec  these  rugs— a  dozen  of  them  in  this  house— Mary  has 
braided  out  of  strips  of  old  woollen  and  flannel  clothes." 
"They  are  very  pretty  and  useful."  I  said.     "  I  see  the  braids 


Mi 


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II 


are  made  heavy,  and  are  sewed  together  by  the  edges,  either  in 
round  or  oval  shape." 

"  Yes ;  and  I  must  say  a  girl  that  is  that  industrious  ought  to 
have  as  nice  clothes  as  Sara's  girls.     But  no— not  she." 

"  Pshaw,  ma !  "  reiterated  Mary. 

"lis  so;'  insisted  her  mother.  "And  now.  Miss  Sophronia, 
what  would  you  do  in  our  place  ?  I  want  Mary  to  be  nice. 
And  she  gets  invited  out  with  her  cousins,  and  she  won't  go ; 
because  she  says  they  have  such  a  power  of  nice  things,  like 
other  young  girls,  and  she  has  none.  Her  best  frock  is  all  out 
of  fashion ;  and  she  has  no  fancy  aprons,  no  nice  ties,  nor  spen- 
cers, nor  jackets,  nor  pretty  collars ;  and  if  I  set  out  to  buy 
them  it  would  take  a  mint  of  money,  and  when  Smalley  says  he 
can't— he  can't.  Why  the  money  he  has  laid  out  for  her  hardly 
will  buy  one  good  dress,  to  say  nothing  of  the  other  things  ;  and 
what  would  you  do  if  you  were  me  ?  " 

"  It  seems  never  to  enter  your  mind,  Mrs.  Smalley,"  I  said, 
"that  you  might  possibly  use  what  you  have  on  hand." 

"  We  never  have  anything  on  hand,"  said  she.  "  We  wear 
our  things  clear  out,  or  outgrow  'em,  and  then  they're  done 
for." 

"Mother  never  throws  away  things,"  said  Mary,  "c'.nd  we 
have  a  whole  trunk  of  bits  of  things,  and  a  closet  solid  full  of 
old  worn-out,  outgrown  dresses  and  jackets.  But  they're  none 
of  them  worth  anything." 

"  You  see,  Mrs.  Smalley,"  I  said,  "  when  you  want  something 
in  recent  fashions,  you  go  and  buy  one  new  thing  and  have  it 
made  up.  You  never  make  over  your  clothes,  or  use  the 
dresses  of  past  years  to  remodel  for  this  year.  What  I  would 
do  would  be  to  keep  that  money  for  something  else,  and  not 
buy  Mary  a  new  gown  at  all." 

Thev'  both  looked  dismayed  and  .^stnnishfd 

"  If  you'll  promise  to  exactly  follow  niy  directions,"  I  said, 


ECOXOMV  //V    THE   HOME. 


71 


"  I'll  engage  that  you  shall  lit  Marj'  out  nicely  with  the  money 
Mr.  Smallcy  gave  you ;  and  what  is  more,  you  know  I  shall  not 
';alk  about  it," 

"  Trust  you  for  that,  Miss  Sophronia,"  said  Mrs.  Smalley. 
1  says  to  Mary  the  other  day:  '  I  dare  say  anything  to  Miss 
Sophronia,  for  it  'ud  take  the  Resurrection  Angel  himself  to 
bring  out  what's  once  been  buried  in  her  ears.'  " 

I  .said  to  Mary :  "As  for  that  closet  of  clothes,  you  know  I 
saw  it  last  winter,  when  I  was  here  while  your  mother  was  sick." 

'  And  I'll  never  forget  your  kindness  if  I  live  to  be  a  thou- 
sand," interrupted  Mrs.  Smalley. 

"  So  come,  Mary,"  I  said  ;  "you  and  I  will  go  up-stairs,  and 
if  you'll  take  my  niece,  Mrs.  Rogers,  into  our  partnership,  I'll 
agree  to  teach  you  what  shall  be  worth  a  fortune  to  you." 

Mary  and  I  went  up-stairs.  Mary  said :  "  Do  please  show  me 
how  to  be  nice  on  a  little  money,  so  that  mother  will  not  fret  so 
at  the  difference  between  me  and  my  cousins." 

I  like  Mary:  she  is  a  friendly,  indu.strious  girl.  I  remember 
once  when  I  was  ill  she  came  to  my  house  every  day,  insisting 
on  being  of  some  use,  even  to  helping  Martha.  I  thought  I 
might  not  only  relieve  her  of  some  present  annoyance,  but  might 
give  her  a  lesson  of  use  for  all  her  life.  Mrs.  Smalley  is  one  of 
the  kind  of  people  who  save  aimlessly ;  opposed  to  wasting,  she 
hoards,  but  her  stores  are  practically  wasted,  because  she  puts 
them  to  no  use.  I  wished  to  teach  Mary  to  use  what  she  had 
before  purchasing  more. 

Mary  opened  the  trunk  of  fragments,  odds  and  ends  of  afl 
Kinds,  collected  during  a  score  of  years,  and  neat!y  rolled  in 
bundles.  I  said  to  Mary:  "Here  is  a  parcel  composed  of  silk 
and  ribbon:  those  shall  be  your  neck-tics." 

"  There  is  scarcely  anything  nice  there,"  she  replied. 

'  \'nu  must  take  thcni  to  Mrs.  Rogers,  and  she  will  show  you 
how,  by  the  aid  of  a   little  embroider)'  silk,  to  create  use  and 


M 


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THE   COMPLETE   HOME. 


beauty  out  of  these  fragments.    This  little  roll  of  embroidery  and 
scraps  of  edging  shall  be  a  nice  outfit  of  collars  and  cuffs  and 
undcr-sleeves.    Come  and  spend  Friday  with  inc,  bringing  these 
Haifa  yard  of  fine  linen,  and  half  a  yard  of  fine  lawn,\and  I  will 
show  you  how  by  taste,  a  little  knovvledge  of  transfer  ^^■o■■k^  and 
your  neat  sewing,  you  can  provide  yourself  ten  dollars'  worth  of 
pretty  articles   for  less  than  a  dollar.     It  is  early  in  the  .season  : 
le:  the  matter  of  your  dress  go  until  you  are  encouraged  by  the 
wonders  which  you  perform  in  other  ways."    I  opened  the  closet. 
"  Here  is  an  out-grown  dress  of  barred  muslin.    That  shall  make 
J-ou  two  white  aprons  with  ruffles ;  get  it  ripped  and  ^vashed. 
And  here  is  the  pretty  embroidered  muslin  you  had  when  j-ou 
were  twelve." 

"The  nicest  frock  I  ever  had,"  sighed  Mary. 
"Rip  it  up:  with  the  aid  of  edging  and  insertion  from  that 
bundle,  you  sh.-U  have  a  lovely  fancy  sacque  to  wear  to  evening 
companies." 

Mary's  ^■...  brightened  up.  "  I  believe  we  can  make  use  of 
these  old  uw,.,;^  and  I  shall  go  right  to  work  ripping  and 
pressing." 

When  I  went  home  I  casually  remarked  to  Martha  that  I 

had  been  at  Mrs.  Smalley's. 

"  I  hope  she  was  redd  up,  and  fit  to  .see  you,  ma'am." 

"Oh,  yes:  but  really,  Martha,  I  cannot  .see  why  Mrs.  Smalley's 

work   occupies   all    her  time ;    she   and    Marj.  are   neat,  good 

workers,  and  have  only  Mr.  Smalley  to  work  for  iij  that^'six^ 

roomed  house." 

"Dear  knows,  ma'am,"  said  Martha;  "Mrs.  Smalley  is  busy 
enough,  if  that  is  all;  she  is  one  of  those  folks  who  would  sfuul 
iind  jump  in  a  bucket  all  day,  and  then  wonder  why  they  didn't 
get  on  far,  when  they  kept  agoing  all  the  time."  With  which 
parable  Martha  left  me  to  my  meditations. 

Miriam  came   early  next  day,  and  I  told    her  about    Mar> 


ECONOMY  IN  THE  HOME. 


73 


Smallcy,  and  asked  her  to  invite  the  -^irl  to  spend  a  day  or  two 

witli  lier,  and  then  teach  her  how  to  make  up  tne  pr.Uy  aiticlcs 

of  dress  which  she  needed.     "  She  will  prove  an  apt  pupil,  and  I 

wish  you  would   show  her  what     ou  have  done  for  your  own 

wardrobe:  I  know  you  are  n(jt  ashamed  of  your  contrivings  in 
that  line." 

"  Oh,  by  no  means  ;  quite  proud,  on  the  cont: 
"And  then,  my  dear,  do  let  her  stay  all  day,  ami  lielp  you  ge*- 
dinner  and  tea,  and  xpound  to  her  your  'order'  and  your 
method  of  getting  work  done.  It  may  go  far  to  making  a  happy 
woman  of  her,  and  her  future  home  a  place  of  content  and  not 
of  worry.  You,  ]\Iiriam,  have  a  real  genius  for  housekeeping, 
and  you  should  in  this  way  let  your  light  shine  on  your  young 
neighbor:  it  will  perhaps  influence  all  her  life." 

"  Certainly:  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  her,  and  help  her;  I  will 
write  a  note  now,  and  let  Ann  take  it  to  her." 

So  Miriam  wrote  her  note,  and  then  began  to  tell  me  of  a 
"Mother's   Meeting"  which  had  been  started.      Some  of  our 
ladies  meet  with  poor  women  who  are  now  in  unusual  straits 
from  lack  of  work;  they  give  them  materials  to  make  up  cloth- 
ing, or  sell  them  at  wholesale  prices  what  they  themselves  have 
purchased  at  such  prices;  or  even  lower,  things  which,  having 
funds  in  hand,  they  have  bought  at  auction  sales.     They  en 
courage  the  women  to  bring  clothing  for  their  families  to  be 
remodelled  or  mended ;  and  .spend  the  time  of  sewing  in  dis- 
cussing domestic  affairs,  in  exchanging  recipes,  in  givinglnforma- 
tion  about  domestic  economy,  and    rules   for  keeping  houses 
healthy,  and   making  cooked   food  yield   its  full  value  to  the 
consumer.     "  Cousin  Ann  is  President,"  she  added. 

"That  is  a  great  charity,"  I  said,  "and  very  kind  in  you  to 
take  part  in  it." 

"Indeed,  aunt."  she  replied,  "  I  begin  to  think  charity  pays; 
I  am  sure  I  have  learned  in  those  meetings  a  great  deal  that  has 


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THE   COMPLETE   HOME. 


saved  me  as  much  money  as  I  have  contributed  to  fhem.  Be- 
sides,  the  ladies  are  siiowing  these  women  how  to  repair  clothes, 
foot  stockings,  and  do  various  things,  which  I  had  never  thought 
of,  and  I  can  make  my  charity-work  go  twice  as  far  by  knowing 
diese  methods." 

Presently  Helen  and  Mrs.  Winton   came,  and  the  talk  soon 
turned,  as  I  meant  it  should,  on  domestic  economy.     Mrs.  Win- 
ton  has  lived  much  abroad,  and  has  thus  had  an  opportunity  of 
observing  the  home  life  of  many  peoples.     She  talks  fluently  if 
she  perceives  that  her  hearers  are  being  interested  and  benefited. 
I  presently  led  her  to  my  subject.     She  said  :  "  We  Americans 
are  an  extravagant  people :  our  land  is  so  wide  for  its  popula- 
tion, and  brings  forth,  or  can  bring  forth,  so  much  more  than  its 
inhabitants  consume,  that  we  know  nothing  of  the  saving  and 
careful  economy  of  people  of  the  Old  World's  thronged  States. 
Lavish  abundance  of  common  things  surrounded  our  ancestors, 
and  they  used  it  lavishly :  we  inherited  the  prodigal  habit :  but 
now  our  cities  and  some  of  our  districts  have  a  crovvded  popula- 
tion, and  want  is  the  result  of  waste.     With  us  a  poor  laborer's 
family  will  spend  more  and  waste  more  than  a  family  in  middle 
station  in   Italy,  Germany  or  France ;  our  middle  classes  .spend 
and  waste  what  would  appall  a  Frenchman  of  fortune;  in  fact,  we 
seem  to  lack  the  very  means  and  methods  of  saving,  which  are 
open  to  all  in  the  Old  World  ;  we  despise  saving;  we  call  careful 
economy  pcnuriousness;  a  woman  who  looks  well  to  the  ways 
of  her  household  here  is  styled  '  .stingy : '  abroad  she  is  a  good 
hou.sckccpcr   doing    her   legitimate    duty.     Take   our  way  of 
making  coffee:  a  large  quantity  of  ground   coffee  is  mixed  up 
with  an  egg  or  half  an  egg,  as  the  case  may  be,  and  this  i.s 
emptied  into  a  coffee-pot  of  boiling  water,  and  very  po.ssibly  it 
)i  allowed  to  go  on  boiling,  pouring  .steam  out  of  the  spout. 
Tlic  size  of  the  pot  has  very  little  reference  to  the  number  of  the 
fawily;   after  breakfast   from  a  pint   to   three   pints  of  toffco 


ECONOMY  IN  THE  HOME. 


75 


remain  over ;  it  may  be  thrown  out,  or  it  may  be  boiled  ovei 
next  morning.     Abroad,  the  French  pot  rules  the  day:  it  is  a 
pot  made  with  two  stories  of  about  equal  size.     The  lower  one 
must  hold  as  many  cups  as  the  family  are  likely  to  use.     The 
upper  story  has  two  fine  filters.     The  ground  coffee,  about  half 
as  much  as  weeded  for  the  other  style  of  making,  is  put  in  the 
upper  and  coarser  filter,  and   slowly  over  it  is  poured  water 
sufficient  to  nearly  fill  the  lower  pot,  when  it  shall  have  worked 
its  way  through  the  second  fine  filter.     No  Q'gg,  no  mi.ving  of 
any  kind  is  used.     The  .spout  and  the  top  have  air-tight  caps; 
the  coffee  is  thus  hermetically  sealed  up,  and  is  set  back  on  the 
.stuve  where  it  shall  keep  scalding  hot,  but  in  nowise  boil.     In 
ten  minutes  the  coffee  is  all  in  the  lower  pot,  with  every  par- 
ticle of  .strength    from  the  grounds  carried  with  it,  and  all  its 
aroma  held  in  itself,  and  not  diffused  through  the  house.     Not 
a  particle  of  grounds  reaches  the  lower  pot :  you  take  the  cap 
from  the  spout,  and  a  clear  bright  stream  of  coffee  goes  into 
your  cup.     Boil  those  grounds  afterwards,  and  there  is  no  color 
or  .strength  to  be  found  in  them.     All  the  coffee  is  used  each 
day:  there  is  none  to  throw  away,  and  French  pots  do  not  take 
kindly  to  the  iniquity  of  coffee  boiled  over." 

"But,"  said  Helen,  "  suppose  an  unexpected  guest  is  at  table." 
"Your  Frenchman  meets  the  difficulty  by  letting  some  mem- 
ber of  the  flimily  quietly  go  without,  or  what  is  better,  filling  up 
the  grown  people's  cups,  and  then  pouring  a  little  mon  boiling 
water  in  the  pot.  and  giving  the  juveniles  weaker  drink;  or  he 
makes  his  original  pot  of  coffee  proportionately  .stronger,  and 
pours  a  little  boiling  water  into  each  cup;  he  will  manage  some 
way,  rather  than  have  coffee  to  throw  out.  The  foreign  house- 
wife docs  not  tiiink  it  mean  to  count  heads,  and  then  count  her 
potatoes  and  eggs.  She  knows  whether  her  family  takes  one  or 
two  apiece  of  each,  and  -ho.  cnoV%  accordingly;  she  is  wise  to 
teavc  a  oropcr  margin  of  one  or  two  in  case  of  somebody's  extr« 


\m 


?d 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


appetite.  She  does  not  feel  embarrassed,  if  her  son  calls  for 
a  third  egg,  calmly  to  remark  that  there  are  no  more  cooked;  and 
she  knows  that  with  his  proper  quota  of  eggs  and  other  food, 
he  can  complete  his  meal  on  bread  and  butter :  she  would  fepl 
much  more  embarrassed  at  having  food  to  throw  away." 

"And  then,"  said  Miriam,  "  suppose  some  one's  appetite  fails, 
or  does  not  increase  to  that '  margin  of  one  or  two  '  ?  " 

"  Suppose  that  one  egg  is  left,  or  one  potato.     Here,  Bridget, 
or  the  housewife  herself,  says,  '  one  is  not  worth  keeping,'  and 
throws  them  into  the  swill-tub.     The  French  housewife  is  not 
tempted  by  that  unhap  »y  institution  always  yawning  at  hand. 
On  the  contrary,  suppose  the  egg  is  soft-boiled.     She  drops  it 
into  a  tin-cup,  and  makes  it  hard-boiled  at  once.     C'ne  hard- 
boiled  cg'g  chopped  fine  is  what  she  needs  in  composin.r  a  salad, 
and  the  French  housekeeper  is  wise  in  behalf  of  health,  of  good 
taste,  and  of  the  beauty  and  variety  of  her  table,  to  have  salads 
innumerable— as  many  kinds  of  salads  as  Bottom  had  of  wigs. 
There  is  the  egg— the  salad  shall  grace  the  tea-table.     Or,  there 
iij  the  one  potato.     Your  French  housewife  knows  the  value  of 
soup ;  she  does  not  make  a  huge  soup,  and  expect  her  family  to 
dine  upon  it ;  she  does  not  have  her  soup  always  of         kind- 
she  varies  the  kind ;   and  she  has  a  small  dish  oi  i,o  jp  as  a 
prelude  to  her  dinner:  here  she  serves  health  and  variety.     The 
potato  nicely  ^ut  in  wedges  shall  be  one  of  the  ingredients  of 
her  soup.     The  beginning  of  her  soup  i-  jrcnerally  of  bones.   She 
has  a  stone  jai.  and  the  bones  are  usually  trimmed  closely  out 
of  the  uncooked  meat,  .sprinkltd  with  salt  and  pepper,  and  put 
in  this  jar,  over  which  a  cloth  is  tied,  and  it  is  kept  in  a  very 
:ool  place.   Almost  every  day,  with  a  few  bones  and  a  variety  as 
to  other  ingredients,  .she  will  concoct  a  wonderful  .soup— a  white 
soup,  a  brown  soup,  a  clear  soup,  a  vegetable  soup— and  the 
spoonful  of  beans  or  peas,  the  few  slices  of  tomato,  the  remnant 
of  the  rice  or  the  macuroni,  shall  not  be  ignominiously  cast  out, 


ECONOMY  IN  THE  HOME. 


i  < 


but  the  soup  shall  be  as  is  most  convenient  to  the  stock  on 
hand,  and  all  these  fragments,  neatly  kept,  are  to  go  therein. 
The  French  are  not  remarkably  religious,  but  they  do  follow  the? 
monition  :  '  gather  up  the  fragments  that  nothing  be  lost.'     In 
one  of  our  families,  suppose  that  we  have  a  cup  of  milk  left 
from  breakfast ;  in  our  closet  is  a  slice  or  two  of  sponge  or  cup- 
cake, a  small    saucer  of  jelly  or  preserve.     In   the  American 
household,  the  milk  is  frequently  thrown  out,  or  one  of  the 
children  is  bidden  to  '  drink  it  up.'     Biddy  adds  the  preserve  or 
jelly  to  her  own  breakfast, '  so  she  can  have  the  saucer  to  wash.' 
The  cake  is  given  the  children  as  an  interlude  to  meals,  to  .spoil 
their  appetites.     Lo,  the  foreign  housewife !     The  cup  of  milk 
with  ah  c^g,  a  little  flavoring  and  a  trifle  of  thickening  turns  to 
custard;  the  cake  is  cut  in  thin  pieces,  spread  with  the  conserve, 
and  laid  in  a  white  pudding-dish  ;  the  cu-.ard  is  poured  over  itj 
it  goes  for  ten  minutes  into  the  oven ;  the  white  of  another  egg' 
is,  with  a  little  sugar,  converted  into  a  ma-ingm,  and  spread  on 
top;  now  the  yolk  of  the  second  egg  is  beaten  with  a  little 
cream  or  milk,  and  sugar  and  spice,  into  a  sauce,  or  instead  of 
the  cream,  a  little  home-made  wine,  or  the  juice  left  from  some 
canned  fruit  is  used :  and  here  is  a  sauce  for  the  dessert.     We 
eat  it.     Delicious  !    What  dainty  extravagant  things  these  foreign 
people  use !     Instead,  we  Americans  would  have  thrown  away 
the  chief  part  of  this  dish,  and  would  have  provided  for  des.sert  a 
huge  pie,  more  costly,  and  not  half  so  wholesome." 

"  You  mentioned  being  freed  from  the  yawning  of  the  refuse- 
pail,"  I  said.     "  How  is  that  ?  " 

"  There  is  very  little  to  put  in  it.  The  foreign  economist  has 
nearly  all  her  vegetables  scnxpcd,  and  not  peeled— the  thick 
parings  taking  away  a  fourth  of  the  food ;  she  remembers, 
perhaps,  that  the  mo,st  nourishing  and  richest  part  of  the  food 
lies  clo.se  to  the  skin,  or  she  has  simply  been  taught  that  she 
cannot  afford  to  pare  it.    An  old  potato,  a  yam,  a  carrot,  even  a 


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78 


r//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


turnip  and  a  summer  squash,  can  be  scraped,  if  Biddy  thinks  so 
and  will  take  the  trouble.     Often,  also,  vegetables  are  cooked  in 
their    kins,  and  then  the  skin  is  pulled  off  with  a  knife  and  fork 
before  serving:    this  saves  the  waste    of  the   phosphates  and 
starch  m  the  boiling  water.     If  peeling  must  be  done,  the  knife 
IS  sharp  and  the  peel  is  very  thin.     The  housewife's  eyes  are 
overall  her  household;  the  cook  cannot  throw  out  and  waste 
undiscovered.     Madame  has  studied   her   subject:    she  knows 
how  long  the  vegetables,  the  meat,  and  the  condiments  should 
last,  and  they  are  made  to  reach  that  requirement.     A  very 
small  vessel  will  hold  the  waste,  and  if  in  the  countiy  it  is  at 
once   turned   to    further    use.      The    foreigner    cultivates   the 
unn'holesome  pig  far  less  than  we   do :    he    prefers  chickens 
The  housewife,  when  she  has  fowls,  has  the  parings  and  scraps 
put  on  th.  fire  in  some  vessel  kept  for  the  purpose;  she  stirs  in  a 
handful  of  meal,  and  a  little  pepper,  and  serves  her  fowls  a  hot 
breakfast,  to  be  repaid  in  more  and  better  eggs,  and  less  cost  in 
feeding. 

"  In  foreign  countries  the  shops  expect  to  sell  in  littles  •  a 
penny's  worth  of  this,  and  two-pence  worth  of  that.  Exactly 
what  is  needed  for  use  is  bought,  and  there  is  nothing  to  be 
tvastcd.  So  many  people  live  in  '  flats  '  or  in  lodgings,  and  have 
httle  or  no  cellar  and  closet-room,  that  they  must  buy  as  they 
use;  and  the  shopman  does  not  despise  selling  in  littles:  half 
Ais  sales  arc  made  in  that  way. 

"  In  the  matter  of  fuel,  we  Americans  are  terribly  wasteful 
Wood  and  coal  have  been  dangerously  cheap  to  us  I  fed 
heart-sick  v^•hen  I  travel  and  see  grand  trees  sacrificed  for  waste 
m  fuel,  and  mighty  trunks  and  branches  rotting  on  the  ground 
Along  some  of  our  telegraph  lines,  you  will  see  lying  below 
each  pole  one  or  two  other  poles,  moulding  and  rotting  on  the 
ground,  waiting  for  the  possible  ruin  of  the  standinrr  nn«.  .,.a 
often  that  post  is  cedar,  and  will  continue  to  stand"  until  the 


ECONOMY  IN   THE   I/OME. 


79 


wa:tin[r  poles  on  the  ground  have  rotted  into  usclcssness.     They 
call  this  forethought.     It  is  a  fool's  waste.     A  shed  Here  and 
thuiv  along  the  line,  with  a  pole  or  two  laid  on  trestles,  and  so 
kept  sound  and  fit  for  use,  would  be  thrift.     I  have  travelled  in 
Southern  Jersey,  along  swamps  and  barrens  which  would  have 
be-n  an   Italian's   fortune    in  fuel.      In   Jersey  it    rots  on  the 
ground,  or  is  burned  over  'to  get  it  out  of  the  way;'  and,  maybe, 
in  the  burning  the  woods  catch   fire,  and  a  thousand  dollars 
worth  of  good  timber   is  sacrificed.     In   Italy  every  particle  of 
vegetation  that  will  burn  is  used  for  fuel.     Trunks  and  large 
limbs  go  for  cord-wood;  all  the  small  branches  are  trimmed  up, 
and  sold  by  the  load  by  themselves  ;  the  twigs  and  slender  bits 
arc  gathe-ed  by  children,  .sorted  into  bundles  for  kindling  or  for 
making  a   light  blaze,  are  tied  up  with  a  vine  or  withe,  and  arc 
considered  worlh  saving  and  selling,  when  these  little  fascine 
go  to  you  from  the  shop  at  two  or  three  for  a  cent.     The  big 
dead  weeds,  the  mullen  and  thistle-stalks,  the  brambles,  are  cut 
down,  raked  together,  packed  solidly  on  a  cart  and  carried  into 
the  city,  and  sold  to  the  bakers  for  heating  their  ovens.     The 
stumps  of  old  olive  trees,  the  roots  of  dead  olives  and  vines,  the 
prunings  of  the  vine  and  olive  roots  are  gathered  up,  reduced 
in  a  mill  to  a  kind  of  coarse  sawdust,  pressed  into  flat  cakes  to 
weigh  half  a  pound  each,  called  /nines  or  smokers,  and  arc  sold 
two  or  three  for  a  cent,  to  keep  a  fire  which  you  wish  to  leave 
very  low  without  having  it  go  out.     From  the  pine  woods  on 
the  hills  the  cones  arc  gathered ;  their  resinous  wealth  does  not 
rot  on  the  ground  as  here ;  but  they  come  by  wagon-loads  as 
kindling,  and  sell  five  for  a  cent,  or  so  much  the  bushel  or  hun- 
dred, as  you  choose  to  buy  them— great  cones,  four  or  five 
inches   in   circumference,   from    the    dark,   poetic    heights   of 
Valombrosa.     Children  and  aged  people,   who  here  would  be 
paupers  or  qu.irrrUing  on  door-steps,  in  Italy  pick  up  a  spare 
but  honest  living  gathering /?j<rm-,  or  making  the  vine  prunings 


J I 


U|i 


80 


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'nto  fagots  and  selling  them  through  the  streets.     A  rich  Italian 
nould  turn  pale  at  our  paupers'  waste  of  wood." 

"And  how,"  asked  Miriam,  "have  these  foreigners  learned  so 
much  better  economy  than  we?" 

Mrs.  Winton  repHed:  "Trouble  and  sorrow  bring  always  in 
one   way   or  another    their    compensatio.is.      This    economy 
whereby  these  kingdoms  are  surviving  wars  and  despotisms  and' 
are  rehab.htatmg  themselves,  bearing   fruit  in  their  old  'age 
renewing  themselves  into  youth,   is  the  outcome  of  long  ago' 
schooling  in  tribulation.     They  have  been  scourged  by  famines, 
by  plagues,  by  ravaging  armies,  by  shameless  taxations,  and  they 
have  been  >r.^  since  their  eariiest  times  to  save  every  particle 
that  could  be  turned  to  any  use,  to  economize  with  the  strictest 
methods.     Now  famines  have  fled  before  the  face  of  civilization 
governments  have  grown  less  oppressive,  plenty  smiles  where' 
want  was  known,  and  the  good  habits  learned  in  ages  of  penury 
will  make  these  nations  rich  and  strong.     America  must  learn 
this  les.son  of  economy,  for  the  noblest  land  cannot  endure  the 
drain  of  waste.     If  people  could  only  be  taught  that  economy  is 
a  thing  of  littles  and  of  individuals,  and  of  every  day,  and  not  a 
thing  of  masses  and  of  spasmodic  efforts,  then  a  true  idea  would  ' 
begin  to  tell  upon  the  habits  of  our  domestic  life,  and  its  effects 
would  be  seen  in  general  and  national  prosperity,  for  the  thrift 
and  thriving  of  the  individual  is  the  thrift  and  thriving  of  the 
nation." 

"I  should  think,  at  this  rate,"  said  Helen,  "that  the  foreign 
housewife's  existence  would  be  a  perfect  slavery:  she  must  be 
forever  on  tlie  watch,  sacrificing  her  time  and  strength  for  small, 
poor  savings." 

"In  this,  as  in  all  our  lives,"  said  Mrs.  Winton,  "order  is 
everything:  system  is  the  grand  time  and  strength  saver.  The 
housewife  inculcates  upon  children  and  servants  the  habit  of 
saving;  she  notes  every  deficiency;  she  lia.s  her  rules,  and  hei 


ECONOMY  IX   TJIE   HOME.  gj 

order  of  using  and  saving.  When  she  goes  through  her  hou-e-- 
hold,  ,f  hers  happens  to  be  the  duty  of  superintendence  rather 
than  of  execution,  she  notes  all  that  is  on  hand,  and  order,  it  to 
Its  proper  uses;  she  descries  and  checks  every  waste.  It  takes 
no  more  time  nor  strength  to  attend  to  this  thoroughly  than  to 
go  negligently  over  the  house,  chafing  at  wastes  and  deficiencies 
ahicn  she  has  neither  energy  nor  wisdom  to  correct  " 

"Many  things  that  might  be  kept  to  be  useful,"  said  Miriam 
"spoil,  mould,  or  grow  stale  in  a  temperature  a  little  too  warm' 
what  ,s  a  good  method  of  preserving  .uch  things,  especially  if 
savmg  everywhere,  one  must  save  also  oh  the  ice  bill,  and  buy 
very  little  ice,  or  even  none?" 

"Our  foreign  economist,"  said  Mrs.  Winton,  "knows  the  value 
of  three  things:  charcoal,  evaporation,  and  a  piece  of  muslia 
A  bit  of  thin  muslin  tied  over  pots  and  jars,  instead  of  putting 
on  them  a  close  cover,  will  keep  out  flies  and  dust,  and  will 
admit  air  to  aid  in  preserving  things.     For  mould,  every  little 
fragment  of  it  should  be  quickly   removed,  and  jars  or  cans 
where  it  has  been  should  be  scalded  and  scoured,  for  movdd  is  a 
vegetable  growth,  every  particle  producing  spores,  whereby,  as 
by  seeds,  it  reproduces  itself     Charcoal  kept  near  meats  or  ^fher 
food  absorbs  into  itself  the  germs  of  decay,  and  aids  ii»  pre   .■  - . 
mg  what  IS  placed  upon  or  beside  it.     Evaporation  aids  like  ice 
m  lowering  the  temperature.     That  stone  jar  for  the  bones  for 
instance,  is  to  be  kept  cool.     Tie  a  bit  of  muslin  over  it  pin  a 
towel  or  thick  cloth  around  it,  and  keep  that  wet-the  evapora- 
tion will  reduce  the  temperature:  so  by  a  wet  cloth  you  can 
k-eep  j-our  butter  jar  in  order,  or  a  stone  pot  wherein  you  ar. 
keeping  a  piece  of  cooked  meat." 

"All  this  is  very  nice  to  know."  said  Helen,  "and  is  also 
reasonable;  but  to  put  it  in  practice  seems  penurious,,  a  fretting 
about  trifles,  a  saving  rather  beneath  people  " 
"That  is  because  we  do  not  look  at  it  in  a  right  light,"  said 


82 


THE   COMrLLTE   HOME. 


\.' 


?       }    1 


Mrs.  Winton.  "Christ,  the  Lord  of  all,  who  could  command 
food  for  thousands  at  a  word,  did  not  think  it  beneath  him  to 
set  his  apostles  to  gathering  up  scraps  of  fish  and  bread,  which 
he  had  produced  at  so  little  apparent  effort  and  cost.  He 
showed  his  poiver  in  providing,  his  liberality  in  bestowino-,  his 
fmrf Illness  in  saving.  '  Did  he  not  this  altogether  for  our  sakes?' 
— to  give  us  a  lesson  of  that  economy  without  which  the  human 
race  cannot  be  maintained?  All  that  is — the  bread  on  your 
table,  the  meat,  the  eg:j,  whatever  we  use — is  the  ultimate  pro- 
duct of  Christ's  creating  skill,  and  the  result  to  us  of  his  benev- 
olence. What  divine  chemistiy  in  the  fruit  matured  for  our 
tables!  Economy  is  a  high  Christian  duty,  that  nothing  be 
lost." 

Housekeepers  in  the  country  are  able  to  avoid  waste  in  keep- 
ing things  far  better  than  city  housekeepers  can  do.     There  is 
usually  the  spring-house  with  its  running  water ;  and  with  the 
freer  air  and  the  shade  trees,  closets  and  store-rooms  can  be  kept 
cool  and  .sweet.    I  was   talking  with  Cousin  Ann   about  this: 
she  says  that  many  houscicoepers  do   not  realize  the  need  of 
keeping  the  butter  and  milk  in  a  place  where  there  is  no  smell  • 
of  cooked  meats,  or  of  vegetables  or  pickles.     Some  people  will 
set  a  plate  of  pickles  down  by  a  pan  of  milk,  or  a  dish  of  ham 
or  mashed  turnip  warm  from  the  table  close  by  their  fresh  butter, 
and  then  wonder  zvliy  their  milk  and  butter  taint  so  fast !    Other 
people  do  not  give  air  enough  to  places  where  they  are  keepinf^ 
things,  and  they  lot  in  too  much  light,  and  are  not  careful  to 
keep  out  flies.     Cousin  Ann   has  mosquito-netting  nailed  over 
the  lower  halves  of  her  paptry  and   store-room  windows,  and 
she  had  the  boys  make  latticed  shutters  for  the  windows,  which 
shutters  she  kcep-s  bowed  all  day:  thus  she  has  no  flies  in  these 
places,  and  plenty  of  air.     She  now  has  wire  covers  to  put  over 
meat  and  vegetables  set  by  from  the  table ;  but  before  she  could 
.-afford  these  covers  she  put  such  things  in  deep  basins  of  cheap 


Eco.vosrr  in  the  home. 
red  earthenware,  and  carefully  tied  pieces  of  nettmg  over  the 
op.     She  remarked  .o  n,e  .he  Cher  day  that  some  people  m 
.hen,selves  rnore  dan,a,e  with  ,he,V  ice-chests  than  goi„!wW 
ou    .ce  „.ou,d  do  .he.,  for  .hey  crowded  all  .a„„e'  of  .hi^^^ 
.n  o  ftem,  and  wore  no.  careful  ,o  cleanse  .hem  .horoughly  o, 
ah  b..s  of  food  .ha.  nngh.  be  sca..cred  fi-om  the  dishef     K 
people  who  canno.  b„y  a  refHgera.or  a  nice  ice-bo.  can  be  .h„, 
made,  .ake  a  common  s.ore-box  as  large  as  you  want  your  ice- 
ches.;   ge.  another  box  abou.  nvo   inches    larger  each  Z- 
=pnnl<  e  a  layer  of  sawdust  in  .he  larger  box ;  bore  three  sm^l' 
auser-holes  ,n  the  bottom  of  the  smaller  box,  and  set  it  i  " 
other,  upon  the  sawdust ;  pack  the  space  between  the  boxes  Ji, 
awdust  to  w.thin  two  inches  of  the  top,  drive  small  stL! 
board  over  the  top  of  the  sawdust  to  prevent  its  scattering    ,t 
bore  ,„  th,s  outer  box  three  small  auger-holes  low  down  o°n    i ,' 
he  s,de  and  one  in  each  end.    Take  a  lid  that  will  fit  thetn 
box    „„,1  stout  cloth  on  it  rather  loosely,  so  that  it  can  be     " 
n  v,,h  sawdn.st   before  the   last  end  is   tacked  down-   p„    , 
handle,  made  of  a  strap  of  leather,  in  the  centre;  now  'if'l 
ar  has  rats  in  it,  set  into  the  ground  four  bits  of  old  stov 
P.P=  as  pegs  for  the  chest  to  rest  upon,  and  if  this  is  Zx 

I  think    if  any  one  could  give    instructions   in    domestic 
eeonomy  ,t  would  be  Cousin  Ann:  not  a  thing  is  wa  t" 

al  gel:  iror";::-  'f"/°'  '"-"■  ^^-^  --^  -^ 

»rease  goes  for  making  hard  and  soft  soap:  a  leach  of 
wood  ashes  is  always  in  use;  old  bones  do  not  lie  arould  u" 
■gl.  .y  htter,  but  there  is  a  "bone  heap."  which  is  burned  ci; 

start"  ■::::    r'T  "^  ^'^-^"^  garden:  Cousin  aZ 
Btarts,  m  house-boxes,  lettuce,  radi.,hes.  onions  anri  cucumber,- 


'I'll 


^  n^ll 


84 


jy/E    COMPLETE  HOME. 


sho  has  the  earliest  vegetables  that  are  raised  around  here,  and 
she  says  the  truest  economy  in  saving  health,  escaping  bills  for 
medicine,  and  even  in  saving  in  provisions,  is  attained  by  having 
plenty  of  fresh  early  vegetables  on  the  table  three  times  a  day. 
Cousin  Ann  is  well-to-do,  but  she  says  "  prosperity  came  by 
economy,  and  she  will  not  deride  the  bridge  which  carried  her 
safjly  over  perilous  places:"  she  says  economize  in  little  things, 
and  creat  economics  will  take  care  of  themselves.  Cousin  Ann 
always  has  in  each  room  where  there  is  a  fire  a  box  of  paper- 
lighters  to  save  matches;  her  bread-board  and  pan  have  no 
dough  left  clinging  to  them  ;  there  is  no  scattering  around  her 
flour-barrel,  and  all  the  scrapings  of  pots  and  plates  go  to  the 
chicks. 

"  These  are  such  trifles.  Cousin  Ann." 

"Well,  your  life  is  made  up  of  seconds,"  -^plies  Cousin  Ann 
in  a  parable. 

"  Very  valuable  trifles,  after  all ;  have  you  no  more  of  the 
kind,  Cousin  Ann?" 

"  Perhaps  I  have  not  mentioned  to  you  tivo  bottles  in  my  china- 
closet  which  I  value  very  highly.  One  is  a  large-necked  bottle 
of  plaster  of  Paris.  It  costs  me  ten  cents  to  fill  it,  and  ten  dol- 
lars would  be  a  very  small  estimate  of  what  that  amount  saves 
me.  If  the  walls,  especially  the  hard-finished  ones,  get  scratched 
or  nicked  in  ugly  little  holes,  I  mix  a  little  plaster  of  Paris  with 
water  and  cover  the  injury:  all  is  then  as  good  as  new;  for 
doing  this  work  I  keep  by  the  bottle  a  thin, Landless  knife-blade. 
If  any  crockery  is  broken,  I  mix  some  of  this  plaster  with  a 
little  strong  glue  or  with  some  white  of  egg,  fasten  the  broken 
parts  together,  hold  or  tie  them  in  place  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
they  are  dry  and  I  scrape  off  the  plaster  which  has  exuded  from 
the  crack,  and  the  dish  is  firmly  mended.  China,  glass  and 
earthenware  can  be  used  in  this  way.  If  the  dishes  do  not  look 
well  enoug'i  to  come  to  the  table,  they  will  yet  do  to  set  away 


ECONOMY  IN  THE  HOME 
th.ngs  in  the  store-closet,  or  for  keeping  jelly,  n^armalade.  o. 
preserves.     For  mending  such  things  I  keep  an  especial  glue- 
brush;  one  must  work  quickly  as  the  plaster  dries  so  quickly 
thekmfe  and  brush  usedjn  it  are  fit  for  nothing  else;  and  I 
m.x  the  plaster  as  I  need  it  in  a  clam-shell,  always  keeping  two 
or  three  clam  or  muscle-shells   besides  the  bottle:  the  bottle 
must  be  kept  corked.      Speaking  of  clam    and  muscle-shells: 
they  are  ten  times  as  good  as  knives  or  spoons  to  scrape  out 
pans  or  pots:  some  folks  spoil  table-ware,  and  waste  time  when 
usmg  a  shell  would  be  greatly  better  in  all  regards.     When  my 
lamp-tops  come  loose  I  don't  send  them  to  town  :  I  mend  then. 
w.th   plaster  of  Paris.     The  other   bottle  I    mentioned   is    for 
A^nmoma:  I  get  that  at  twenty-five  cents  a  quart  at  a  wholesale 
house  m  the  city.    Nothing  is  like  it  for  cleaning  looking-glasses 
windows,  silver  or  paint,  for  washing  lace  or  embroidery  'for' 
cleamng  black  silk  or  cloth,  for  washing  your  best  glass   for 
spnnkhng  in  -soap-suds  over  your   house-plants  once  a  w'eek. 
Keep  the  bottle  corked;  mix  a  little  ammonia  in  warm  water  as 
you  need  to  use  it.  making  the  water  stronger  of  ammonia  for 
glass  and  s.lver.  weaker  for  flowers  or  paint  or  clothes.     We 
a.ways  clean  our  combs  and  brushes  well  with  it  about  once  - 
month:  it  keeps  them  white  and  stifif;  and  mixing  a  little  am- 
mon.a  with  a  teaspoonful  of  bay-rum  and  half  a  pint  of  warn, 
water  we  use  it  for  cleaning  our  heads:  it  frees  the  head  from 
dandruf   and  the  hair  from  dust,  and  helps  the  growth.     I  don't 
know  of  anything  nicer  in  a  bath,  when  one  is  very  warm  has 
been  perspiring  freely,  or  engaged  in  hard,  dirty  work ;  add  a 
httle  ammonia  to  the  bath-water,  and  you  feel  clean,  fresh  and 
rested;   mdeed  the  ammonia  pays  for  itself  a  hundred  times 
over.     In  house-cleaning  times  it  saves  soap,  brushes  and  paint 
and  t,me  in  washing  wood-work  or  windows;  it  is  a  grand  thing 
for  carpets:  if  they  look  faded  and  soiled,  sween  them  n-ell 
then  after  the  dust  has  settled  wipe  them  with  a  dry  flannel' 


If  llll 


I  ! 


I 


i 


i|i' 


'(ill 


11 

ml 


1 1 


y' 


«6 


7VZS   COMPLETE  HOME. 


Jthen  put  some  ammonia,  say  a  dessertspoonful,  in  two  quarts  of 
warm  water:  wring  out  a  clean  flannel  cloth  in  it  and  wipe  the 
carpet  all  over,  wringing  the  cloth  out  in  the  ammonia  wat'-r 
several  times.  I  believe  it  destroys  moths,  worms,  and  carpet- 
bugs,  and  sets  the  color,  besides  taking  off"  all  grease  and  stains. 
So,  Sophronia,  /wouldn't  keep  house  without  my  plaster  bottle 
and  my  ammonia  bottle." 

"Well,  Cousin  Ann,"  I  replied,  "I  shall  give  my  nieces  each 
two  of  these  famous  bottles,  with  their  virtues  and  uses  inscribed 
on  the  outside." 

"Do,"  said  Cousin  Ann:  "it  will  be  better  to  them  in  the 
long  run  than  a  silk  dress." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  the  dress  would  soon  be  spoiled,  and 
might  encourage  extravagance  or  love  of  display,  but  this  gift 
will  help  them  to  attain  that  virtue  of  life-long  benefit,  Economy 
in  the  Home." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

CHILDREN  IN   THE   FAMILY. 

r-HAT   AUNT  SOPHRONIA    HAS   TO   SAV   OF   THEIR    RIGHTS   AND 
. LIABILITIES. 

HAVE  always  had  the  deepest  interest  in  children  and 
a  strong  affection  for  f  ,.  They  are  the  very  centre 
of  the  Home;  in  fact,  a  Home  without  children  hardly 
seems  to  me  a  Home  at  all;  and  yet,  these,  who  arc 
designed  to  be  the  Home's  choicest  blessing,  often  become  its 
heaviest  sorrow.  I  think  people  have  more  varieties  in  their 
fash.oHs  of  dealing  with  or  bringing  up  children,  than  in  any- 
thmg  else;  and  I  suppose  there  .should  be  differences  in 
methods,  inasmuch  as  there  are  so  great  natural  differences  in 
children.  But,  after  all,  there  seem  to  be  certain  fundamental 
rules,  which  apply  to  the  right^training  of  all  children:  these 
rules  I  find  entirely  ignored  by  very  many  parents. 

Children,  as  human  beings,  must  come  into  the  world  witij 
certain  inalienable  rights.  A  great  many  parents  seem  to 
regard  their  children  as  mere  chattels,  without  any  rights  what- 
ever.  Children,  as  sharing  our  fallen  nature,  need  certain 
restraints.  Many  parents  seem  to  forget  this,  and  let  them 
come  up  in  entire  ignorance  or  defiance  of  that  excellent  thing 
-law.  Children  arc  the  noblest  of  our  possessions.  They  are 
the  only  immortal  part  of  our  possessions.  They  deserve,  there- 
fore, in  virtue  of  their  Intrinsic  value,  our  most  vigilant  care  and 
guidance.  But  many  parents  will  bestow  more  trainintr  on  .-» 
voung  colt  or  heifer  than  on  their  child;  more  care  on  a^sewiny 

(87) 


88 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


macliinc  than  on  son  or  clauglitcr ;  more  time  on  a  piano  than 
on  their  own  offspring ;  more  affection  on  some  pet  cat,  bird  or 
poodle  than  they  cxkibit  for  a  child.  They  will  try  harder  to 
understand  the  eccentricities  of  a  cooking-stove,  than  to  under- 
stand the  human  mind,  which  God  has  committed  to  their 
keeping.  My  brethren,  these  things  ought  not  so  to  be. 
Thoughts  on  the  rights,  needs  and  duties  of  children  in  the 
home,  have  pressed  upon  me  more  forcibly  than  ever  since 
there  are  children  in  Helen's  and  Miriam's  homes. 

I  find  that  people's  grandest  mistakes  and  most  unutterable 

failures  arc  connected  with  the  training  of  their  children.     Thus 

it  has  been  in  all  time,  and  even  in  the  families  of  holy  people. 

Isaac  seems  to  have  had  his  hands  more  than  full  with  son 

Esau  ;  and  Jacob  found  plenty  of  trouble  among  his  thirteen. 

David's  sons  turned  out  sadly,  some  of  them.     It  is  no  ^vonde^ 

that  Ishmael  went  out  of  the  wrv-  of  Abraham  so  quickly,  when 

Abraham  turned  him  adrift  so  early ;  and  while  Lot's  children 

seem  to  have  been  a  desperate  set,  Mrs.  Lot  was  most  likely  to 

blame  for  tliat,  especially  with  Lot's  going  to  live  in  a  wicked 

place  like   Sodom  just  for  gain,  which  no  father  of  a    family 

•ihould  have  done.     It  appears  to  me  that  when  there  is  failure, 

tve  can  usually  go  back  and  put  our  finger  on  some  error  and 

say:  "  Here  is  where  the  wrong  began."     But  then  it  is  always 

easier  to  .see  the  beginning  from  the  end,  than  the  end  from  the 

beginning.     We  know  well  enough  roads  that  we  have  travelled 

over !     Then  when  the  evil  is  done,  it  is  often  too  late  to  mend 

it       I  Tow   circumspectly   then    we    should    go   over    unknown 

ground,  where  a  false  step  may  be  fatal ! 

I  remember  Mrs.  Winton  and  I  we  :t  to  .see  Helen  when  little 
Tom  was  a  fortnight  old.  Helen  seemed  to  have  some  .sense  o^ 
her  responsibility,  and  .she  said:  "What  a  charge  I  shall  ha. u 
when  it  is  time  to  begin  to  train  and  educate  this  child !  " 

Mrs.  Winton  looked  up:  "  Helen,  you  should  have  begun  tc 


CHILDREN  IN  THE  FAMIL  Y.  gf, 

train  and  to  educate  a  fortnight  ago.  Education  should  bcc^in 
with  the  first  hour  of  a  babe's  hfe,  and  it  should  from  that  hour 
have  a  fixed  end." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Helen. 

"The  end  of  our  education  should  be  to  develop  the  child  in 
eveiy  direction,  into  the  very  best  and  highest  which  it  is 
capable  of  attaining.  VVe  must  always  remember  that  the  child 
w.ll  hve  forever  in  another  world  than  this;  that  in  this  world  it 
will  be  a  member  of  a  social  system,  and  will  have  duties  to  its 
race.  It  .s  also  an  individual,  with  its  private  and  particular 
nature  and  emotions,  which  are  to  be  regarded  in  its  up-bringing 
So  Helen,  begin  at  once  to  train  your  babe:  as  an  individual 
wth  regard  to  its  riglits ;  and  as  a  member  of  society  with 
regard  to  its  duties." 

"But,  Mrs.  Winton,  ^vhat  can  one  teach  so  young  a  child  ?" 
"Pafence  is  the  child's  earliest  lesson.     It  can  be  taught  to 
watt.     Don't  give  it  what  it  is  crying  for  while  it  cries.     Calm  it 
tenderly  first,  and  then  promptly  give  the  food  or  the  toy  •  as  it 
grows  older,  whatever  it  is  proper  for  it  to  have:  it  soon'asso- 
nates  receiving  with  quiet  and  pleasant  asking.     So  you  can 
teach  the  child,  as  a  member  of  society,  to  cry  softly,  and  not 
disturb  the  house  with  wild  shrieks.     You  can  calm  and  soothe 
a  very  young  child  to  mild  crying,  and  get  it  habituated  not  to 
roar  and  bellow." 

"I  always  noticed,  Mrs.  Winton,"  I  said,  "that  your  children 
cned  quietly,  and  did  not  fill  the  neighborhood  with  shrieks  " 

"I  always  pitied  them  when  they  were  hurt,  not  in  the  ratio 
of  the  noise  they  made,  as  many  do.  but  in  the  ratio  of  their 
gentleness  about  their  trouble.  Children  love  sympathy  to  be 
petted  and  pitied-if  shrieking  like  Comanches  is  the  pnce  of 
notice,  of  course  they  will  shriek.  I  u.sed  to  .say  '  softly,  .softly 
and  then  I  shall  feel  .so  sorry  for  you.  Ah !  wl.t  a  good  child 
to  be  so  patient ! '     They  learned  a  pride  in  patience  and  endur- 


■I 


f   i 


!» 


80 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


ance.  I  have  seen  mothers  feeding  a  child  with  two  spoons, 
nurse  and  mother  feeding  together,  to  keep  the  child  from 
screaming  as  soon  as  its  mouth  was  empty.  The  thing  is  a  fact, 
and  ruined  the  child's  temper  and  digestion.  A  child  should  be 
taught  to  wait  patiently  while  its  food  is  preparing,  and  while 
itself  is  being  made  ready  to  eat  it.  Naturally,  the  little  "one  is 
the  centre  of  its  own  universe,  and  believes  the  world  was  made 
when  it  was,  and  for  it.  We  must  early  teach  the  child,  in 
patience,  gentleness  and  generosity,  to  know  that  it  has 
compeers  whose  rights  are  as  settled  as  its  own." 

Mrs.  Burr  also  called  upon  Helen  with  me  while  Tom  was  a 
young  infant.     Helen  .said  to  her : 

"  Mrs.  Burr,  your  family  is  considered  a!»model :  give  me  some 
of  your  rules  for  training  little  children."       • 

"  I  esteem  quid  very  highly,"  said  Mrs.  Burr,  "both  in  behalf 
of  the  child's  health  and  its  good  manners.     A  little  child  is  a 
delicate  organization,  and  its  nerves  are  delicately  strung ;  but 
nurses  frequently  jounce,  toss  and  tumble  it,  tickle  it,  jump  and 
scream  at  it,  and  take  its  nervous  contortions  or  forced  laughter 
for  expressions  of  pleasure.     Do  we  sec  cats  or  birds  servin" 
their  young  in  this  way?     No,  they  supply  their  needs,  keep 
them  warm  and  quiet,  and  let  them  develop  their  faculties  natur- 
ally.    Grown  people  could   not  endure  the  torments  through 
which  they  put  a  young  child,  calling  it 'amusing  it.'     I  have 
known  children  given  spa§ms,  or  fi.xed  in  nervous  diseases,  by 
this  folly.     Nurses  are  especially  given  to  this  error.     They  are 
often  of  a  hoydenish,  noisy  class,  and  they  u.se  these  manners  to 
a  child.     If  physically  the  child  escapes  harm,  its  manners  are 
injured;  it  is  rampant,  boorish,  disturbing  every  one  with  its 
uproar,   which    is   called   liveliness  and    healthfulness   by   the 
parent,  yet  is  really  a  bad  habit.     Children  disturb  their  elders 
more  by  their  noise  than  in  any  other  one  way,  yet  parents  delib- 
erately train  up  their  children  in  a  noisiness,  which  they  cannot 


if. 


CHILDREN  IN  THE  FAMIL  Y. 


91 


endure,  and  as  a  next  step  drive  them  out  into  the  street  in 
order  to  be  rid  of  their  uproar." 

'•  But,  Mrs.  Burr,  I  have  supposed  that  noise  was  natural  to 
children,  and  that  only  feeble  children  were  very  still." 

"  The  noise  of  children,"  said    Mrs.  Burr,  "  has  its   proper 
limitations  of  time,  place  and  kind.     Ugly  noises  they  should 
be  trained   to  eschew;  the  happy  noise  of  their  plays,  shouts 
and  laughter  are  natural  and  healthful,  but  even  they  must  not 
be  brought  among  the  aged,  the  sick,  nervous,  or  where  a  young 
child  is  sleeping.     Children  can  be  taught  to  keep  their  bolster, 
ousness  for  their  own  play-room,  the  field  or  the  garden  ;  to  .speak 
in  gentle  tones,  to  choose  quiet  plays  when  they  play  around 
their  elders.     It  is  easy,  Helen,  to  begin  right  in  these  matters, 
and  it  insures  a  happy  home ;  it  is  hard  to  begin  later,  when  two 
or  three  children  have  become  fixed  in  unplea.sant  ways ;  it  is 
dangerous  to  family  peace  and  juvenile  manners  not  to  begin  at 
all.     And  let  me  say  a  word  on  the  subject  of  nurses.     Our  chil- 
dren are  often  permanently  injured  mentally  or  physically  by 
their  nurse.     The  nurse  may  have  a  loving  disposition,  and  may 
grow  to  have  a  fondness  for  her  charge,  but  it  is  idle  to  expect 
from  her  a  warm  affection  for  every  child  whom  she  is  hired  to 
attend.     Your  safeguard  then  is  in  good  principles;   but  how 
many  of  those  who  aspire  to  the  ve'ry  responsible  office  of  child's 
maid,  are  trained  in  good  principles?     it  frequently  happens  that 
the  child  of  well-to-do  parents,  able  to  hire  a  nurse,  gets  poorer 
care,  and  has  less  chance  of  its  life,  than  the  child  of  poor 
parents.     The  fearful  summer  mortality  among  poor  children  can 
be  accounted  for  in  close,  hot  rooms,  impure  air,  dirty  clothes, 
bad  food,  and  often  general  neglect.     The  richer  child  has  good 
food,  air.  room,  clothes,  cleanliness,  but  he  has  a  nurse-maid, 
whose  hidden  carelessness  often  forfeits  the  life  of  her  charge. 
How  often  have  I  seen  a  delicate  babe  sent  out  by  its  mother 
fog  an  airing  in   its  carriage !     The   nurse,  chatting  with   hel 


ill! 


§2 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


friends,  or  hastening  to  overtake  a  companion,  dashes  the  little 
buggy  over  curbs  and  crossings.  I  have  even  seen  a  child  flung 
bodily  out  of  its  carriage  by  such  a  jolt.  In  our  parks  I  have 
seen  maids  rushing  the  little  buggies  down  slopes,  over  drains, 
around  curves,  in  a  manner  to  endanger  the  spines  and  brains  of 
infants.  Or  the  nurse  sits  down  on  a  door  or  a  church  step  fof 
a  long  talk :  the  babe,  exposed  to  heat  and  flies,  often  the  sun 
blazing  on  its  undefended  face,  begins  to  wail.  Hundreds  of 
times  have  I  seen  the  nurse  shake  or  slap  it  for  its  cries.  After 
an  hour  or  two  of  such  a  '  ride  for  health,'  the  child  goes  home 
fevered,  weak — no  appetite.  Dozens  of  cases  of  illness  or  of 
deaths,  which  parents  and  doctors  ascribe  to 'summer  heats,'  or 
the  'diseases  incident  to  summer,'  are  tjie  result  of  exposures  and 
excitements  which  grown  people  could  not  endure.  The  lovely 
babe  of  a  friend  of  mine  died  after  agonizing  illness — the  victim 
of  a  nurse  who  was  very  fond  of  it.  After  a  hot  day  she  sat  with 
the  child  on  a  porch  during  a  thunderstorm,  giving  the  babe  no 
protection  for  its  bare  neck  and  arms,  until  it  was  chilled  through. 
Many  nurses  privately  administer  opiates  to  their  charges. 
Almost  all  nurses  that  I  ever  knew  do  not  hesitate  to  frighten 
children  by  noises  or  tales ;  or,  to  keep  them  from  being  ven- 
tuicsome,  teach  them  fears  of  almost  every  place  and  thing. 
The  mother,  who  wants  a  brave  son,  begins  by  handing  him  over 
to  a  nurse,  who,  for  the  first  three  years  of  his  life,  labors  to 
make  him  a  coward." 

"You  alarm  me,  Mrs.  Burr,"  said  Helen;  "but  what  is  to  be 
done? — ought  not  nurses  to  be  hired?" 

"I  think,"  said  our  friend,  "that  mothers  often  injure  them- 
selves and  their  babes  by  endeavoring  to  assume  the  whole  care 
of  the  child.  The  mother  begins  the  charge  in  a  weak  state  of 
health;  she  is  burdened  with  family  cares,  possibly  with  sick- 
ness in  the  house,  with  broken  rest  at  nights ;  she  is  feeble  and 
nervous,  and  this  nervousness  reacts  upon  the  child,  while  often 


CHILDREN  IN  THE  FAMILY.  no 

a  mother's  health  is  shattered  and  she  dies  prematurely,  leaving 
her  babes  to  strangers,  when  by  sharing  the  care  of  them  her 
life  might  have  been  prolonged.     So,  and  in  an  even  greater 
degree,  the  figures  and  health  and  tempers  of  unfortunate  little 
eldest  daughters  are  sacrificed  to  being  made  reliable  child's  maids 
(or  their  juniors.     There  is  hardly  a  being  on  earth  whom  I  jiity 
more  than  such  a  little  eldest  girl,  prematurely  old  and  care- 
worn,  never  knowing  what  a  jolly  childhood  is,  always  with  the 
children  on  her  mind  or  in  her  arms.     Better  by  far  to  dress 
this  little  girl  in  plain  calico,  and  send  her  to  church  in  a  white 
sun-bonnet,  while  the  money  for  fine  dress  pays  a  maid  to  carry 
and  attend  the  little  ones,  than  to  have  the  poor  creature  in  her 
own  childhood  burdened  with  a  mother's  cares,  and  compelled 
by  her  own  grievances  and  privations  to  consider  children  an 
unmitigated  nuisance.     A  lovely  lady  once  said  to  me,  'I  feel 
often  horrified  at  the  little  love  I  have  for  my  brothers  Ind  sis- 
ters-they  are  less  to  me  than  strangers;  but  it  was  my  mother's 
error.     Those  children  were  the  curse  of  my  early  life.     I  had 
no  rights  and  no  privileges,  no.  toys  which  the  little  ones  were 
not  allowed  to  destroy.     I  could  not  have  company,  because  "  I 
had  enough  brothers  and  sisters,"  or  "company  disturbed  the 
baby."     I  could  not  visit,  because  the  children  missed  me,  or 
should  have  been  asked  to  go  with  me.     If  I  went  in  the  street 
I  dragged  a  carriage  or  led  or  lugged  a  child.     I  spent  the  even- 
ings until  my  own  bed-time  shivering  in  a  cold  room,  waiting 
for  some  child  who  chose  to  be  afraid  to  go  to  sleep.     I  never 
went  anywhere  with  my  mother,  because  when  she  was  out  I  • 
must  be  at  home.     I  saved  the  lives  of  the  little  things  a  few 
times   by  my  courage  and  presence  of  mind,  and   I   almost 
regretted  it,  because  the  more  reliable  I  was  the  more  I  was 
laden  with  a  woman's  duties.     I  remember  when  once  or  twice 
death  came  to  our  crowded  circle,  my  first  irresistible  thought 
was— now  I  would  get  a  little  more  time  to  rest  and  read.    Even 


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94 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


my  school  and  lessons  were  sacrificed  to  these  children.  All 
this  was  pecuniarily  unnecessary,  but  my  parents  felt  that  nurses 
were  unreliable,  and  I,  alas,  was  trusty !  I  often  wished  I  had 
been  born  without  a  conscience,  so  that  my  parents  would 
have  been  afraid  to  trust  me,  but  I  was  so  constituted  that  I  could 
sacrifice  life  rather  than  duty.  The  memory  of  my  youth  is  a 
nightmare.  A  pestilence  broke  up  our  family  within  a  week. 
I  sorrowed  for  my  dead,  but  I  was  free  from  slavery.  Now  my 
remaining  brothers  and  sisters  are  to  me  chiefly  associated  with 
the  long  weariness,  sadness,  sacrifice,  and  rebuffs  of  my  early 
life.  When  I  was  twenty-four  my  own  first  child  was  laid  in  my 
arms,  and  there  surged  over  me  that  feeling  of  burden  and  dis- 
tress, that  horror  of  great  darkness,  thrtt  closed  my  childhood  in; 
but  I  soon  found  that  a  woman's  joyous  love,  her  knowledn-e, 
her  skill,  her  strength  for  responsibility,  her  command  of  the 
situation,  for  her  own  babe,  is  a  very  different  thing  from  the 
experience  of  a  child  so  recklessly  overburdened  as  I  was.'" 

"Dear  Mrs.  Burr,"  cried  Helen,  "if  I  ever  have  a  little 
daughter,  she  shall  have  the  advantage  of  that  little  story.  But 
tell  me  what  to  do.  I  cannot,  it  seems,  have  a  nurse,  nor  do 
without  one:  where  is  the  middle  course  here?" 

"  If  you  can  afford,  by  any  .sacrifices  of  luxuries  or  fineries 
even,  to  keep  a  nurse-maid,  Helen,  do  so.  But  first  be  sure 
about  the  girl  you  are  getting :  know  something  of  her  family, 
her  history;  see  to  it  that  she  is  healthful,  modest,  cleanly,  kind. 
You  cannot  be  too  scrupulously  particular  about  these  things. 
Then  consider  that  you  get  her,  not  to  take  your  place  to  the 
babe,  but  to  relieve  you  in  lesser  cares,  so  that  you  can  with 
better  strength  fulfil  the  rest.  A  iiiothcr  should  always  bathe, 
dress,  undres,',,  and  feed  her  own  child:  no  one  else  will 
exercise  such  tender,  wise  care  as  she  in  these  immensely 
important  particulars.  If  your  child,  unhappily,  must  be  fed 
from  its  birth,  see  yourself  to  the  preparing  of  its  food,  and  the 


CHILDREN  IN  THE  FAMIL  Y. 


95 


washing,  keeping  and  cleansing  of  the  vessels  in  which  that  food 
is  prepared  and  administered.     If  the  nurse  puts  the  child  to 
sleep  in  the  day  time,  let  her  do  it  in  a  room  where  you  arc 
sitting;  but  I  should  say,  always  put  your  own  child  to  sleep, 
and  let  the  nurse  take  any  work  that  might  at  that  time  occupy 
you.     At  night  put  the  child  to  bed  yourself:  then  you  will  be 
sure  that  it  i^  not  frightened  nor  made  uncomfortable.     If  pQs- 
sible,  accustom  the  child  to  going  to  sleep  itself  when  laid  on 
the  bed,  and  teach  it  to  sleep  without  a  light:  a  light  burns  up 
the  oxygen  of  the  room,  depriving  the  child  of  good  air,  and  its 
constant  use  makes  the  child  timid  in  the  dark.     However,  some 
children  cannot  be  taught  these  things:  nervous  fear  is  con- 
stitutional.     Remember,  then,  what  Horace  says:  'You  can- 
not drive  out  nature  with  a  fork.'     Keep  away  the  causes  of 
nervous  fear,  and  by  degrees  the  child  will  outgrow  it.     That 
splendid   child,  Grace  Winton,    was    from   her   birth   constitu- 
tionally fearful  of  lightning;  frantic  terror  took  possession  of  her 
at  the  slightest   flash.      No   matter  where   she    was,  nor    ho^v 
occupied,  if  an  electric  storm  appeared,  Mrs.  Winton  repaired  to 
Grace,  and  she  never  allowed  her  to  go  far  from  her,  or  for  a 
long   time.      Grace  was  ashamed   of  her  uncontrollable  fear ; 
friends  told  Mrs.  Winton  that  she  spoiled  the  child  in  this  point 
She  replied:  '  No;  I  shall  solace  her  unreasoning  age, and  trust  to 
developed  reason  to  control  her.'     She  explained  rarly  to  Grace 
the  reason,  uses  and  theories  of  storms ;  she  showed  utter  fear- 
lessness herself;  and  from  the  time  she  was  eight,  Grace  lost  her 
terrors,  and  is  now  as  brave  as  her  mother  in  all  particulars. 
But  to  return  to  the  nurse.     She  can  hold,  carry,  exercise  with 
the  child,  but  do  not  let  her  go  off  alone  on  long  perambulations 
with  it.     If  she  goes  beyond  your  sidewalk  or  garden  go  with 
her;  if  you  cannot  go,  keep  her  under  your  eye  and  out  of 
temptation.     The  only  time  I  ever  broke  that  rule,  my  youngest 
nearly  died  from  getting  the  whooping  cough  in  the  midst  of 


•'    1 1 


''%. 


96 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


Ill 


his  teething;  the  nurse  was  a  trusty  girl,  too;  she  merely  called 
on  her  sister,  not  knowing  the  cough  was  in  her  family ;  but  if  I 
had  been  with  her  she  would  have  made  no  calls.  Nurses,  in 
their  calls,  expose  children  to  foul  air,  vermin  or  diseases ;  and 
keep  them  warmly  wrapped  for  hours  in  close  rooms,  and  then 
go  out  in  the  cold  with  them.  Often,  in  low  parts  of  the  city, 
have  I  seen  babes  crying  in  their  buggies  at  doors  where  nurse- 
maids were  inside  gossiping,  and  once  I-  knew  of  a  child  stolen 
under  such  conditions." 

"  But  suppose,  Mrs.  Burr,  I  am  too  sick  to  feed  or  bathe  the 
child,  or  to  go  out  with  it,  or  put  it  to  bed?  " 

"  Get  a  friend  to  go  out  with  it,  with  the  nurse,  or  keep  it  at 
home ;  and  have  the  nurse  feed,  bathe  and  put  it  to  bed  where 
you  are  present  to  overlook  the  matter." 

"  But  in  some  families  nurses  take  the  whole  care  of  children, 
and  often  in  England  they  bring  up  the  children  entirely." 

"  God  sometimes  mercifully  confers  on  children,  thus  left  by 
their  mothers,  a  nurse  more  faithful  than  the  mother.     But  I 
don't  think  wc  should  indulge  neglect,  expecting  Him  to  make 
up  for  our  delinquencies.     One  may  have  a  mature,  judicious 
nurse  many  years,  and  trust  her  more  and  more  as  she  shows 
herself  reliable  :  yet,  ought  a  mother  to  desire  to  delegate  those 
duties  and  services  which  her  little  child  has  a  right  to  claim 
from  her?     In  England  long  terms  of  service  are  more  common 
than  here.     Here  a  nurse    is  changed  once  a   year,  or  half  a 
dozen  times  a  year ;  or  as  soon  as  her  little  charge  can  toddle 
she  is  dismissed.     She  loses  the  affection  of  habit,  and  does  not 
expect  to   become    identified   with    the   fiimily   interests.      In 
England  a  nurse   spends    often  her  whole  life   in   one   family 
nursing  two   generations;  the   family  feel    that   one  who  was 
devoted  to  their  helpless  infancy  has  more  than  a  pounds-and- 
pence  claim  on  them.     In  this  respect  the  feeling  of  the  colored 
nurses  in  the  South,  formerly,  was  like  that  of  the  English  rather 


CHILDREN  m  THE  FAMILY.  g. 

;         imi,  sne  lell  a  good  deal  too  much  responsibility 
o  hot  „u«e-g,ri.     However,  the  first  one  was  a  good  „ue  for 
I  engaged  her  myself,  unfortunately  she  soon  ,eff 

Mrs.  Burrs  remarks  about  edueating  children ' into  noisines, 
ad  .,m,d,ty  struck  n,e,a„d  doubtless  caused  me  more  „a,ti 
.any  o  notice  several  little  street  incidents.     I  walked  ou  ^ 
d^  and  saw  our  minister's  wife  at  her  garden  gate  talkin  .„ 

a™  'he^  K  H  '""  ^"'''  "'°  ™  '■"  "'■'  '™«»-    She  had  in°h 
arms  her  babe,  a  year  old.     The  former's  horse  put  his  bead 

over  the  gate:  the  child  shrank  back  to  his  mothers  neck 

Pretty  horse!  "  said  his  mother,  in  her  musical  voice-  and 

^kmg  the    Hild's  hand  in  her  own  she  stroked  the  anima  ' 

,r  KU      ,      "" '-  "''  ''''  "''"  'y''"    Grown  suddenly  bold 
the  ch,l    poked  his  finger  at  the  horse's  great  dark  eye,  but  t 
watchful  mother  seized  his  hand  :  "Softly!  be  kind  to  the  h 
Poor  horse.    No,  no ;  don't  touch  his  eye  " 

he'^!'„lf"'  ""'  """''  ""  '°  ''•'  *=  »=-'•=  -==  as  hard  a, 

■'Softly!  gently;  so,  so;  you  must  not  whip  the  good  horse- 
pat  him  SO,  softly."  .  s  "u  nurse, 

The  cWld  learned  now  that  there  was  to  be  neither  fear  nor 

ac:;:rhiT;^^^^       ^  "-^^^  -..hestro^ed  the  an.-.! 
face  w,th  h,s  white  dimpled  hand.     A  square  farther  on  I  saw  a 

.  T\  "  '^''^  '■"  ^'''  ''""''  ^"d  as  the  cart-horse 

^urned  his  head  to  look,  the  little  one  reached  out  laughlT 
Th    horse's  head  was  two  or  three  feet  from  the  child  but  the 

heard  a  b!o.k  off!     Ti.e  child  burst  into  a  shriek  of  terror  and 
was  earned  in-doors,  having  'earned  that  n  ,, 

y  "i,   '-^™^'^  ^"«  a  very  common  animal 


■■'W 


I  ' ":  I  I'M 

n 


98 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


was  an  object  of  mad  fear.  Near  my  own  home  I  saw  a  young 
woman  with  a  two-years-old  boy  in  her  arms,  as  she  stood  talk- 
ing to  some  friends  who  were  in  a  buggy.  The  child  had  a 
willow  switch,  with  which  he  was  striking  about.  The  mother, 
a  boisterous  creature,  shouted :  "  Whoa!  get  up!  Hit  the  horsey  I 
Hit  him  hard!  That's  right;  crack  him  good!  whoa!"  The 
youngster  bellowed  as  loudly  as  his  progenitress,  and  hit  right 
and  left  as  well  as  he  was  able.  He  was  getting  his  lesson:  a 
lesson  of  noise,  of  cruelty  to  a  domestic  animal,  of  needless 
words,  uproar  and  excited  actions — he  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
become  hard-hearted,  and  very  uncomfortable  to  live  with. 

When  Miriam's  little  Dora  was  a  few  months  old,  Miriam 
invited  Mrs.  Burr  and  myself  to  tea.  Very  naturally,  our  talk 
turned  on  the  training  of  children,  and  Mrs.  Burr  made  some 
good  remarks  on  the  subject.  She  said:  "  Miriam,  don't  expect 
your  child  to  be  perfect.  That  is  our  first  demand  on  our  chil- 
dren :  we  expect  them  to  be  angelic  beyond  others,  yet,  when 
we  come  to  look  at  ourselves,  we  shall  see  how  very  insufficient 
A  foundation  we  have  for  such  an  expectation.  Don't  feel  that  all 
faults  are  equally  heinous.  Childhood  has  errors  which  we  may 
reprove  or  correct  very  gently,  or  even  ignore  altogether,  rather 
than  to  be  always  condemning,  trusting  that  the  whole  moral 
training  of  the  child  will  correct  some  faults  of  which  individual 
notice  has  not  been  taken.  Childhood  has  its  cri:/rs  v.  )iich  can- 
not be  permitted  without  destroying  the  child'*  chr.rict^r.  I 
should  say  the  three  primary  crimes  are  disobedience,  falsehood, 
and  selfishness.  Of  the  first,  nothing  so  insure.'^  the  happiness 
of  the  child,  and  the  comfort  of  the  Home,  as  obedience;  obedi- 
T^c  includes  respect  for  a// who  are  in  authority;  the  respecting 
c'v  '  .ia  ed  "~  .veil  as  parental  authority;  true  obedience  has  none 
?f  L'  ;  ,.',.tant,  'I  .shan't  mind  you;  you  ain't  my  mother,'  style, 
Wiiici.  <5ome  parent-  even  think  ver}.' amusing.  If  we  begm  early 
enough  with  a  child,  it  will  acquire  the  habit  of  obedience  before 


>li 


CHILDREN  1.x  THE  l.;M,Ly.  „„ 

ft  kno„3  ,h3t  ij    .^   ,^^^„.^^  _^^^^j^.^^^  ^^^    .^  ^,^^  ^^^^ 

obed,c„,  d,sp„s,„o„s,  as  the  plant  grows  as  you  have  trained  i, 
Some  parents  eomraand  and  rccommand,  and  then  permit  the 

1  '.".sh,  without  stopping  to  consider  whether  the   child  ha, 
un  erstood   the  order.     ,    have    seen    idiots   who    will    tell  ! 
h,ld  a  year  old  to  put  down  or  pick  up  something,  and  when 
the  order  ,s  not  obeyed,  they  begin  to  shake  and  slap,  never 
quost,o„mg  whether  the  new  deni.en  of  this  world  app^hends 
the,r  mslructions,  or  appreciates  what  it  is  to  do.     The  child 
becomes  terrified  and  nervous;  that  is  set  down  as  obstinacv 
and   a  w,ll  that  must  be  broken.'     What  did  the  Lord  besto'w 
the  D,vme  Power  of  the  will  for,  if  not  to  be  a  stronghold  to  the 
hvman  be,„g.>     ,t  must  he  guided  in  the  way  of  righteousness 
have  not.ed  Mrs.  Winton:  she  never  allows  her  word  to  be 
d-sregarded.  and  never  has  a  battle.     I  have  seen  her  tell  a 
young  child  to  put  down  something,  which  the  child,  looking  at 
her,  st,ll  clutched.     There  was  no  second  order,     he  ^^1 

a,d  ,f  the  ch,Id  d,d  „..  understand  the  phrase  'put  it  down' 

he  act  expounded  it;  ,/f  it  *V,  and  concluded  to  hold  on  the 

■oosmg  of  ,.s  grasp  secured  the  accomplishment  of  the  parental 

emand,  and  taught  it  that  instant  action  must  follow  a'  order 

wh.ch  ,t  had  thrown  down,  once  told,  if  obedience  did  not  follow 

he  qu,etly  clasped  the  little  fingers  over  the  object  and  secured 

the  performanc.  of  the  act;  her  children  have  grown  in  o     ' 

assurance  that  the  mother's  order  must  be  followed  by  ^ec" 

ion,wh,e  no  bitter  antagonisms  have  been  awakened.    One 

Tari  a".r"'*  '■" '°"™"'™'  '^ '""'  '''=  "=^-  ^--* 

a.sserts  a  thmg  concerning  which  she  has  not  h.rself  f„|l 
assurance,  and  then  sh.  never  changes ;  her  words  ,  'like  the 
laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians;  and  while  law  is  thus  inflexible! 


Hi 

'i 
-1 


100 


r//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


her  children  have  their  acknowledged  rights,  which  are  to  them 
as  impregnable  as  an  Englishman's  home.  I  notice,  too,  that 
while  she  does  not  stop  to  argue  things  with  her  children,  she 
is  always  ready  to  explain,  sometimes  before,  sometimes  after, 
the  performance  of  an  order:  thus  her  children's  acts  are  estab' 
lished  on  reason,  and  sound  judgment  is  developed  in  them, 
while  they  are  not  forever  saying, 'Why? '  Obedience  is  the 
corner-stone  in  Home  training.  The  child  ■^^  ould  not  grow  up 
feeling  that  obedience  is  due  only  to  one  parent:  that  authority 
resides  only  in  one — that  father  must  be  minded,  while  mother 
can  be  twisted  as  they  choose ;  that  mother  rules  them,  while 
father  is  a  figure-head,  or  an  animated  purse.  They  must  not 
find  one  parent  concealing  their  acts  from  the  other,  or  one 
parent  permitting  what  the  other  prohibits." 

I  said :  "  While  in  our  civil  laws  one  kind  of  penalty  meets 
one  offence  and  another  another,  in  domestic  training  there  is 
too  often  only  one  kind  of  punishment  for  all  misdoings:  crimes 
or  mere  errors  meet  the  same  reward ;  a  lie  or  an  accident 
receives  equal  reprobation.  This  is  the  sure  way  to  destroy 
moral  sense." 

"Accidents  should  never  receive  punishment,"  .said  Mrs.  Burr, 
/'  but  a  child  should  be  akvays  required,  as  far  as  possible,  to  repair 
them  :  thus  carelessness  is  corrected.  True,  the  child's  bungling 
repairing  may  all  need  to  be  done  over  again  by  the  parent,  but 
in  giving  its  time  and  its  labor,  the  child  has  learned  carefulness, 
A  nephew  of  mine  was  shamefully  wasteful  of  his  food ;  his 
mother  preached  good  manners,  his  father  general  human  needs, 
and  depicted  poor  people  hungering  for  his  wa.ste:  he  wasted 
still.  When  he  was  twelve  years  old,  my  brother  reformed  him 
thoroughly :  ho  made  him  rai.sc,  one  summer,  a  quarter  of  an 
acre  of  corn,  and  the  same  amount  of  potatoes.  ]kn  planted 
and  hoed,  weeded  and  pursued  potato-bugs ;  he  thought  it  fun 
at  first,  work  presently,  purgatory  soon  after.     His  father  had 


CHILDREN  IN  THE  FAMIL  Y.  jqj 

hired  the  half  acre,  paid  for  th.  seed  and  the  ploughing;  poor 
Ben  learned  what  it  costs  to  produce  food  He  dug  his  potatoes, 
cut  and  husked  his  com,  found  a  sale  for  both,  repaid  his  fathers 
outlay,  and  pocketed  a  dollar  and  a  half  for  his  summer's  work  • 
but  he  pocketed  a  lesson  worth  thousands.  He  knew  how  to 
ra.se  h.s  dinner  out  of  the  soil,  and  he  knew  what  labor  food 
represents ;  he  is  now  the  most  scrupulously  saving  fellow  I  ever 
saw. 

"The  children  of  a  friend  of  mine  were  remarkable  for  the 
punty  and   propriety   of  their   language.     She   procured   this 
mceness  by  an  odd  method.     Children  readily  pick  up  vulgar  or 
bad  words;  whenever  she  heard  such  an  one,  she  calmly  looked 
mto  U,e  little  mouth  whence  it  came  :  •  Dear,  dear,  what  a  dirty 
mouth!     Such  a  word  does  not  leave  a  clean  mouth  !     Come  let 
us  wash  ,f     The  mouth  was  carefully  washed  with  soap  and 
water  rmsed.  wiped.     '  Go,  now,  and  be  careful ;  don't  get  your 
mouth  dirty  any  more!'     No  matter  how  busy  she  was.  the  great 
busmess  of  keeping  clean  mouths  was  always  heeded,  and  her 
children  learned   a   positive  disgust  for  all    low  language  and 
a   hearty  respect   for   cleanness  of  speech.     My  cousin  Ann's 
mother  lud   a  custom   akin   to  this.      When   her    grandchil- 
dren  dropped  an  e^-il  word,  she  rubbed  a  little  aloes  on  their 
tongue.     A  bad  word  was   a   bitter  word  to   them,  and    they 
also,  talked  as  they  ought.     The  .same  disease  requires  different 
remedies  to  suit  the  patient.     I  had  my  eldest  at  Cape  May 
when  he  was  three,  and  from  a  family  of  boys  at  our  hotel   he 
learned  to  swear.     Imagine  my  consternation  !     He  picked  up 
the.r  speech  as  he  did  mine,  knowing  nothing  of  its  meanirig 
rhe  more  I  reproved  and  punished,  the  more  firmly  the  evil 
language  was  fixed   in  his  mind.     I  went  home  with  him  to 
escape  bad   company.     I  wept  over   the  affair  to  my  mother 
she  said  to  me  :  '  The  child  knows  no  more  harm  in  those  words 
tl-an  .n  a  nursery  rhyme.     All  your  measures  arc  fi.ving  them 


"4M 

ii  1  lllfl 


.  I,' 


M\v' 


102 


TJ/E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


in  his  memory;  at  home  he  hears  nothing  of  the  kind.  Ignore 
his  use  of  these  words,  and  he  will  forget  them  in  a  fortnight' 
I  took  her  advice,  and  in  a  week  the  objectionable  words  had 
faded  from  his  memcy." 

Our  minister's  wife  has  remarkable  success  in  training  her 
children.  I  was  talking  with  her  one  day  on  the  subject,  and 
ftfe  happened  to  come  upon  the  matter  of  truthfulness.  She 
said : 

"Nothing  is  more   beautiful  than  truth,  and  we  must  first 
teach  it  to  our  children  by  our  own  example,  by  showing  and 
inculcating  inflexible  principles  of  honor.     Many  parents  mak« 
their  children    liars   by  a   severity   which    first    makes   them 
cowards,  and  by  a  doubting  of  their  words,  and  by  a  readiness 
to   accept   any  stranger's  word   against   the  child's  statement. 
This  is  an  error  as  great  as  that  of  being  credulous,  an  easy 
dupe,  and  falling  a  prey  to   any  misstatement  the  child  may 
make.     Parents  should  study  the  character  of  their  children  to 
see  whether  they  are  honest  or  no,  and  what  are  the  causes  of 
dishonesty.     Very  vivid  imagination  in  young  children  causes 
them  to  state  things  as  they  appear  to  tlicin,  which  look  like  very 
false   statements   to   grown    people.     We    must   consider   how 
small  the  child  is  in  comparison  with  his  surroundings,  how 
new  the  world  is  to  him,  and  how  little  grounds  he  has  for 
forming  a  judgment,  before  we   call   his  misstatements   lying. 
In  early  ages,  knowing  little  of  scientific  fact,  people  attributed 
to  witchcraft  and  the  supernatural  what  are  now  the  easily  ex- 
plained operations  of  nature ;  ignorance  begot, superstition;  igno- 
rance may  make  children  appear  false ;  we  should  be  careful  to 
instruct  them,  and  to  let  no  error  of  statement  pass,  so  that  we 
may  obtain  a  noble  clearness  and  truthfuine.ss  in  them.     A  lying 
child  is  a  mean  and  a  dangerous  child;  and  a  parent's  most 
vigilant  and  earnest  efforts  mu.st  be  given  to  ensuring  absolute 
trutiifulncss. ' 


•  -*\ 


CHILDREN  IN  THE   FAMIL  Y. 


103 


Our  minister  preached  a  sermon  to  the  young  on  Truthful- 
NESS.  He  does  not  often  quote  the  old  philosophers :  he  prefers 
to  instruct  from  the  Scripture,  as  getting  there  the  best  that  can 
be  given;  but  I  noted  a  quotation  or  two  which  he  made  from 
Plato  on  Truth.  "  Is  there  anything  more  akin  to  wisdom  than 
truth  ?  Or  can  the  same  nature  be  a  lover  of  truth  and  a  lover 
of  falsehood  ?  The  true  lover  of  learning  then  must  from  his 
earliest  youth,  as  far  as  in  him  lies,  desire  all  truth."  '^God  is 
perfectly  simple  and  true,  both  in  deed  and  wo.  d;  he  changes 
not ;  ho  deceives  not,  either  by  dream  or  by  waking  vision,^ 
sign  or  word." 

I  think  Miriam's  children  should  grow  up  to  be  blessings 
to  their  parents  and  to  society,  for  she  and  Mark  both  train  as 
they  desire  the  child  to  develop,  and  to  be  when  it  is  mature. 
One  evening  I  was  there,  and  Mark  brought  home  for  the  child 
some  little  treat.  Dora,  seated  on  her  mothers  lap,  prcceeded 
to  help  herself     Mark  said : 

"  There  is  nothing  more  detestable,  more  cruel,  more  ruinou.« 
to  so  iety  than  self.shncss.  Don't  begin  now.  Miriam,  by 
letting  Dora  think  only  of  her  own  satisfaction  ;  loach  her  that 
nothing  is  truly  blessed  until  it  has  been  shared." 

"  That,"  said  Miriam.  "  is  Mark's  rule  for  Ddra,  and  I  think  it 
a  very  good  one :  always  to  offer  to  others  a  part  of  what  she 
has.  She  seems  naturally  inclined  to  be  selfish,  but  we  want  to 
teach  her  a  habit  of  giving,  and  we  always  praise  her  when  she 
divides  with  others.  VVe  go  through  the  form  of  sharing  with 
her  on  all  occasions." 

"Some  parents,"  said  Mark,  "themselves  divide  the  child's 
possessions;  but  that  is  not  teaching  the  child  to  give;  it  is 
depriving  it  of  the  luxury  of  giving.  Children  should  be  taught 
•spontaneity  in  giving.  I  have  seen  parents  take  forcibly  th« 
child's  property  and  give  it  to  c.thc-r. ;  that  is  merely  to  incul- 
catc  the  right  of  might,  and  to  give  a  lesson  in  robbery;  a  rightly 


%  Is  f 


104 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


constituted  child  would  resent  and  question  such  a  proceeding. 
If  the  child's  giving  to  its  mate  must  be  final,  so  should  th^^e 
parent's  gift  to  the  child  be  final ;  and  if  it  is  to  be  given  away, 
the  child  should   be   the   free-giver.     Yet   children  should  be' 
taught  not  to  give,  trade,  or  take  without  honoring  its  parental 
guide  by  asking  advice.     The  parent,  as  judge,  can  condemn 
some  ill-used  possession  as  forfeit,  or  can  adjudge  the  child  to 
make  restitution  in   kind  for   damage   done   to   its  neighbor's 
property;    here  the  parent   bases   his  decree  on  principles  of 
common  equity,  and  here  is  a  grand  and  not  to  be  slighted 
opportunity  for  teaching  justice  between  man  and  man,  human 
property  rights,  and  the  majesty  of  law,  as  guardian  over  all  its 
subjects,  and  with  eye  fixed  on  the  common  good." 

"  Indeed,  Mark,"  I  said,  "  very  few  parents  consider  that  boys 
should  do  justice  and  deal  honorably  by  each  other:  I  have 
seen  over-reaching  called  '  smartness '—destruction  'playfulness.' 
A  child  loses  his  playfellow's  toy  and  says  he's  sorry,  but  is  not 
taught  to  give  up  his  own  property  to  replace  the  loss.  And 
how  frequently  are  children  allowed  to  give  and  then  take 
back  I " 

"There,"   replied   Mark,  "is   the   root   of  much   dishonesty 
among  men:  they  began  it  when  they  were  boys,  their  parents 
ignoring  it,  or  abetting  it,  or  .setting  an  example.     Ingrain  hon- 
esty in  a  lad,  and  you  arc  sure  of  an  honest  man.     Girls  and 
boys  should    be   allowed  independent  property  dealings   with 
each  other;   their  parents  remarking,  and  advising  and  care- 
fully insisting  on  rigid  honesty.     Girls   should  not  be  taught 
that  in  virtue  of  their  sex  they  may  change  their  minds,  break 
their  promises,  or  deal  fast  and  loose.     Upright  business  prin- 
ciples are  as  good  for  girls  as  for  boys,  and  they  should  learn 
them." 

During    these    years   my   niece    Hester  has    several    times 
returned  home  for  short  visits,  and  I  have  seen  with  satisfaction 


<:""-DKE.V  :x  THE  FAMILY.  ,„, 

Mrs.  Winlon's  prophec/cs  concerning  her  proving  true.  Wlnle 
no  less  deeded  she  is  less  aggressive :  she  is  just  as  fond  of  a^^^ 
nent  as  ever  but  proceeds  wi.l,  ,  by  ,ues.,on,  rather  than  c™  . 
tra  .et,on;  she  says  this  is  the  "Sccratic  method."  What  r 
...Chod  .t  ,s,  like  it  better  than  the  one  which  she  had  f„  n  il 
...use    , tough  ,  „.i„  adnti.  that  this  Socratie  .ethoU  is  ra  ,  ^ 

d,et,ng  themselves  1  Hester,  having  graduated,  was  still  pur- 
u,„g  her  favonte  studies  in  New  York,  when  she  came  to  spend 

.few  weeks  w.h  nte,  her  father  being  absent.  He  aeco.pa'ni  d 
n  Explcnng  E.xpedition  to  South  America.    I  don't  appLia.e 

■^f:     ■^''"'  '^  "«=  "^  of  '•■•■aping  up  knowledge  if  one 
^ocs  no   nttend  to  make  any  u.,e  of  it ,    ,.  seems  to  me've^ ,  k 

: ,    '7  '■^'"'""^  !'"  "«>->■.  -■-  !•»  own  sake,  and  not  for  what  i 
.11  procure:  ,t  ,s  merely  a  more  refi,K=d  kind  of  miserlines^ 
It  seems  to  me  th.at  we  should  pu,  our  knowledge,  as  ^H 
or  money,  to  use.,  keep  it  in  circulation.     ,  th  „k  w|,  „  „ 
dear  Lord  condenmed  hiding  tal.nts  in  the  earth,  he  meant  mo  e 

l"mself.  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself     We  ought  indeed  to 

world,  then  m  servmg  our  fellows  we  .serve  our  Lord     One 

would  not  be  quite  useless  in  the  world,  if  one  even  knew  and 
ught        ,„,  „,^„„,^.,^^  ^  ^^^^^  ^^  ^^^^     ^^^^^  ^^ 

-y  .0    ohn;  he  heap,  up  knowledge,  and  knows  no  one  will 
gather  ,t-,t  w,M  go  into  the  grave  with  him. 

Well,  Hester  came  to  visit  me  nn,f  T  K-,  i 

,     .  "^'  ^""  ^  "'^<J.  among  other  thitifr. 

opportunuy  to  see  how  Hester  applied  her  conn  , on  sen  e  a°nd 

:;i  „'::::  z:t:'  t^-^  r-  '"'""■■' '- '--'"« 

about    ,  ,1  '"■•■"owthem  to  stand  and  tease,  tease  forever 

>■"„.  say    no    half  a  dozen  times,  and  then  give  up, 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 

and  say  "yes"  as  a  reward  of  merit  for  teasing.  When  a  parent 
acts  in  that  way,  how  much  respect  is  a  child  likely  to  have 
for  the  parent's  judgment  and  truthfulness  ?  We  should  neither 
grant  nor  deny  so  hastily  that  we  have  not  well  considered  a 
question.  There  is  much  which  our  children  must  be  denied  : 
therefore,  when  we  can  consent  to  their  wishes,  let  us  do  it 
heartily  and  cheerfully.  If  we  deny,  let  it  be  because  we  must, 
and  then  not  go  back  on  our  principles  by  finally  agreeing  to 
what  we  think  wrong.  I  remember  once  I  was  visiting  Cousin 
Ann  at  the  farm,  and  I  was  in  the  garden  with  Ann's  sister-in- 
law,  and  this  lady's  little  son  Bob  came  up : 
"Mother!  can  I  go  fishing?" 

"Why,  no,  Bob;  what  do  you  want  to   fish  for?  you  never 
catch  anything,  and  you'll  be  sure  and  get  cold." 

"Why,  I  like  to  fish,  and  all  the  boys  are  going,  and  I  ncvef 
get  cold;  say,  can't  I  go  fishing?" 

"No,  child,  I  say;  I'm  sure  you  have  not  weeded  the  cab. 
bages,  and  you've  got  your  composition  to  write." 

"  Hoh  !  I  wrote  my  composition  last  night:  it's  all  done,  and 
I  finished  the  cabbages  an  hour  ago— can't  I  go  fishin"?" 
"  Dear  me,  Bob,  what  a  tease  you  are!  no:  it's  too  damp." 
"  Damp!  oh,  dear:  then  it'll  never  be  dry;  it  hasn't  rained  for 
a  week,  and  the  dew's  all  gone,  and  it  is  such  nice  weather— 
can't  I  go  fishing? — Dick's  going!" 

"  Dick's  going!     Well,  he'd  stay  home  if  his  mother  said  so." 
"  But  she  lets  him  go— can't  I  go  fishing,  mother?" 
"I  W7v;-saw  your  like  to  tease;  well,  do  go  along." 
"  But,  mother,  I  want  some  dinner  to  take." 
"  Oh,  you'll  be  home  by  dinner-time." 

"  No,  indeed;  why  it  wouldn't  be  two  hours:  I  want  a  lunch." 
"Bless  me.  what  a  bother!     Well,  go  find  yourself  a  lunch." 
I  went  mtn  the   house  just  in  time  to   hear  Cousin  Ann's 
Dick  begin;  "  Mother!  can't  I  go  fishing?  " 


CHILDREN  IN  THE  FAMIL  Y.  jq^ 

Cousin  Ann  looked  carefully  at  Dick,  as  if  considering  his 
heal  h  wants,  and  various  capabilities  in  the  fishing  line  Then 
she  looked  out  of  doors,  as  if  sun.ming  up  the  weather.  Then 
she  took  a  look  into  the  wood-shed,  to  see  if  Dick's  mornin. 
chopp.ng  and  cleaning  up  had  been  done.  Then  she  said^ 
cheerfully:  Yes,  Dick,  it  is  a  splendid  day  for  fishing.  Go  .et 
your  old  trowsers,  and  your  big  straw-hat.  and  I'll  put  you  \. 

sC::.:  '"  ''"  ^"^  ''-'  P- of  a  fishing  in  your' iew,  I 

Now  I  like  that  straightforward  way  of  dealing  with  a  child- 
know  what  you  n.ean.and  stick  to  it  I  found  that  was  one 
of  Hesters  cardinal  points  in  child-training.  While  Hester 
was  with  me  a  cousin  of  hers  was  called  out  of  town,  and  left 
her  httle  g.rl  in  Hester's  care.  The  child  was  used  to  her  own 
way.^nd  a  perfect  tease.     One  day  she  asked  to  go  to  Mrs, 

"  No :  not  to-day,"  said  Hester. 

;'0h,  yes;  let  me  go;  I  want  to  go;  why  can't  I  go.  say?" 
You  were  there  yesterday." 

"Never  mind  that:  let  me  go;  60  please  let  me  go  " 

Hester  laid  down  her  book  and  asked,  quietly:  "Anna,  how 
many  tmies  do  you  mean  to  ask  me  to  let  you  go?  " 
^^ ''^Why.  I  don't  knew;  do  let  me  go;  what  did  you  ask  tha't 

"  Because  if  you  have  made  up  your  mind  how  manv  times 
you  W.1  ask,  you  might  as  .-ell  begin  and  ask  as  fast  'as  you 
can  and  I  can  say  'no'  all  at  once,  without  wasting  words  " 

Anna  opened   her  eyes   in  astonishment.      Then   she  crio  1 
angrily :  "  I'U  ask  you  Jifty  times !  "  ' 

a.d  .     Now  begm  ;  ask.  and  n.ake  a  mark,  and  when  you  have 
fifty  marks,  you  will  be  done  asking  and  I  will  sny  'no  -    " 
Anna  caught  the  paper  and   began  .naking  n,arks,  crying; 


"(t  \i 


:'^\ 


I  !-hl 


rrtwa 


:o8 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


^HII 

^^^I^B  '-  ~ 

,4 

^'Let  me  go;  let  me  go;   let  me  go."     Finally  she  stopped: 
There !  that's  fifty."  ^ 

But   Hester  had  kept  private  tally.     "No,  dear:   it  is  but 
twenty ;  go  on." 

Anna  went  on,  but  she  wearied  of  asking,  and  wanted  to  c^c 
off     Hester  held  her  left  hand  firmly     "No;  you  must  keep 
your  word.    Ask  on,  until  fifty  times."    Finally  Anna  had  asked 
fifty  tunes.     "  No.  my  dear:  not  to-day,"  said  Hester,  smoothly 
and  took  up  her  book.     Anna  never  again  asked  her  twice  for 
anythmg.    Anna  had  been  used  to  going  to  bed  when  she  chose 
Hester  set  eight  o'clock  for  bed-time,  and  her  law  was  like  that 
of  the  Medes  and  Persians.     Then  we  had  this  scene.     "  Come 
Anna:  it  is  bed-time."  ' 

"  Let  me  sit  up :  I'm  not  sleepy." 

Hester  lit  a  lamp  and  took  the  child's  hand. 

"  Oh,  it's  too  early:  I  don't  want  to  go  to  bed." 

The  two  walked  off  up-stairs  together.  All  the  time  the 
undressing  went  on  Anna  protested:  "  I  don't  want  to  rro  to 
bed."  ^^ 

"  Now,  Anna,"  said  Hester,  "  it  is  time  to  say  your  prayers 
But  we  pray  to  God,  and  you  should  think  only  of  Him  and 
what  you  will  ask  of  Him  as  you  kneel  down.  I  cannot  hear 
your  prayers  while  you  fret  in  this  way." 

A  little  talk  put  Anna  in  a  mood  for  her  prayers;  she  may 
have  fancied  that  yielding  thus  far,  Hester  would  yield  in  turn 
and  allow  her  to  sit  up.     However,  the  prayer  over,  Hester 
put  her  into   bed.     "I  don't  want  to  go  to  bed!"  screamed 
Anna. 

"Anna,"  said  Hester,  "did  I  promise  to  take  you  to  see  Cousin 
Helen  to-morrow?     Do  you  expect  I  will  do  so ?  " 

"  You  said  you  would,"  cried  Anna. 

"And  I  shall  certainly  do  as  I  said.  But  if  I  did  not  keep 
u'y  word  to  you  about  r^oing  to  bed  and  .such  thing,  as  you 


"'^»b 


S\', 


CHILDREN  IN  THE  FAMILY.  '  j^g 

do  not  like,  how  could  you  trust  my  word  when  I  promised 
you  what  you  do  like  ?  "  promised 

••  Maybe  you  will  not  take  me  if  I  am  bad,"  said  Anna. 
.  I  shall  take  you  whether  or  no,  for  I  said  that  I  would  and 

I  cannot  break  my  word."  ""la,  ana 

;;  f  °  "f  ^^•^  ^°^^  '^^^  I  -n^  ?     in  scream  and  holla  ?  " 

shall  not_  break  my  word  for  any  badness.     But  how  well 
w     Id  you  enjoy  gomg  with  me  feelin,  that  I  was  displeased 
w.th  you,  and  that  you  had  been  a  bad  girl?     We  are  nof 
happy  when  we  are  ashamed:  we  are  happy  Ihen  wTdo  :;ht" 
Anna  made  no  reply,  and  Hester  came  down-stairs 
I  hope.  Aunt  Sophronia.  that  this  child  will  not  disturb  you 
by  her  manoeuvres."  ^ 

"Not  at  all"  I  replied;  "I  am  interested  in  seeing  how  you 
get  along  with  her."  ^  ^  " 

"  It's  my  view.  Miss  Hester,"  said  Martha,  who  came  in,  « that 
you  have  the  patience  of  Job." 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  patience."  said  Hester;  "common-^ 
::::         -,  t^t  if  we  want  to  govern  children,  ;e  must  fir  t 
govern  ourselves.     As  to  yielding  to  her  fretting,  it  is  impos- 
.b  e.     Dec.s,on  .s  a  matter  of  the  first  importance  in  training 
.    ren.     A  '  yes  '  .should  be  hearty  and  unconditional,  except 
on  those  understood  conditions  of  life,  health  and  weather,  which 
arc  not  m  human  keeping.     Our  promise  should  be  a  rock  on 
wh,ch  the  child  could  find  unshaken  foundation  for  building    p 
.  s  p  ans.     Our  'no'  should  be  a  wall  of  bras,  which  the  child 
sha    g,ve  up  all  hope  or  endeavor  of  shaking.     Of  two  evi 
would  mamtam  a  foolish  'yes'  and  a  selfish  'no'  rather  than 
shake  a  child's  f.ith  in  the  fixity  of  my  promises.     But  on^^ 
taku^g  the  trouble  to  consider,  can  prevent  selfishness  and  folly 
in  promises ;  and  the  well-being  of  these  immortal  natures  is 
surely  worth  our  most  earnest  consideration  " 
In  fact.  Hester  has   some  ve^^  sound  ideas  about  training 


Ivf 


'  .    J  Hj 


'I 


'tV 


no 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


children,  and  I  said  as  much  to  her,  and  wondered  at  it  when 
she  had  had  no  experience,  even  with  younger  brothers  and 
sisters,  as  many  girls  have.  She  said  it  was  merely  the  applica- 
tion of  common-sense,  and  that  she  believed  the  reason  people 
trained  children  so  poorly  was,  that  they  did  not  apply  their 
common-sense  and  foresight  to  the  training  of  their  families  as 
they  did  to  other  things. 

Hester's  ideas  of  training  take  hold  on  looks  and  manners  as 
well  as  on  morals.  We  went  one  day  to  see  Mary  Smalley, 
who  married  a  thriving  young  fellow  named  Watkins,  and  lives 
on  a  farm  a  mile  from  the  village.  Mary  has  a  little  girl  two 
years  old :  a  nice  child,  which  she  is  proud  of  and  worries  over. 
The  child  has  straight  light  hair,  pretty  enough  a<5  nature  made 
it;  but  Mary'n  pride  leads  her  to  crimp  it,  by  braiding  it  tightly 
over  night,  or  doing  it  up  over  a  hot  hair-pin.  Hester  took 
exception  to  this.     She  said  : 

"  Mary,  do  you  suppose  little  Nettie  cares  how  she  looks  ?     Is 
she  happier  for  being  crimped  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mary;  "  but  /  like  to  see  it." 

" Now  is  not  that  a  little  selfish,  Mary?     Suppose  Nettie  lives 

to  be  fifty  years  old.     For  the  first  dozen  years  of  her  life  she 

cares  nothing  for  her  looks ;  if  you  keep  her  hair  smooth  and  cut 

short  in  those  years,  you  secure  her  a  fine  growth  of  silky  locks, 

heavy  and  healthy.     From  twelve  to  twenty-five  let  us  say  that 

she  has  a  little  vanity  in  dressing-up  and  looking  pretty.     You 

have  secured,  in  this  nice  hair,  one  of  the  most  natural  and 

admirable  ornaments  of  a   young  maiden.     After  twenty-five, 

while   she  is   less  vain,  let  us  hope  that  she  will  desire  to  be 

comely  and  pleasing  in  her  looks  ;  she  may  have  a  husban    to 

admire  her;  and  we  know  the  Scripture  says  that  a  woman's 

long  hair  is  a  glory  to  her.     Of  this  glory  of  womanhood  and 

beauty  of  girlhood,  you,  a  selfish  mother,  will  deprive   your 

daughter,  if  for  your  own  taste  in  this  first  dozen  of  years  you 


UIILDREN  IN  THE  FA  MIL  Y. 


Ill 


ruin  lier  hair  with  crimping,  and  weaken  it  by  letting  it  grow 
long.  Only  keeping  hair  well  brushed,  and  growing  naturally, 
and  cut  short  will  secure  a  fine  growth.  Besides,  Mary,  if 
Nettie  must  be  frizzed  and  crimped  as  a  baby,  how  much  crimp- 
ing  and  braiding  and  foolish  decoration  will  she  want  in  hef 
young  ladyhood?  Will  you  not  lead  her  nto  those  idle  vanities 
of  dressing  hair,  which  the  Scripture  reprobates  in  women  pro. 
fessing  godliness?  " 

"Why,  I  never  thought  of  all  this,"  said  Mary;  "and  is 
keeping  the  hair  short,  and  letting  it  grow  its 'own  way,  the 
only  means  to  have  it  .soft  and  abundant  when  one  is  grown 
up?" 

"Yes,  Mary,"  I  said;  "nothing  hurts  the  hair  more  than  tight 
crimping,  frizzing  on  hot  pins  or  rolling  up  over  bits  of  t'in. 
Wash  the  head  in  cold  water,  brush  it  often  and  briskly,  trim  off 
the  ends  of  the  hair;  and  for  a  child,  keep  it  cut  short." 

"  I'll  do  my  best  for  Nettie's  hair  then,"  said  Mary;  "but  now 

tell  me:  Nettie  sucks  her  thumb.     Some  tell  me  to  make  her 

stop  it,  others  say  it  is  of  no  consequence.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  habit  that  grows  on  a  child;  it  spoils  the  thumb  and 

the  shape  of  the  mouth  ;  I  should  stop  it." 

"  But  how?     I  have  tied  on  a  rag,  but  she  sucks  it  still," 
"  Fasten  on  a  little  glove-thumb,  buttoned  around  her  wrist, 
io  that  she  cannot  pull  it  off;  and  soak  the  glove-thumb  in  aloes!  ' 
She  will  soon  tire  of  putting  it  in  her  mouth." 

Nettie  had  a  blue  ribbon  on  her  hair.  The  child's  real  defect 
is,  that  her  cars  stand  out  too  widely  from  her  head.  Hester 
had  the  little  thing  on  her  lap,  and  she  took  off  this  ribbon,  and 
re-tied  it,  placing  the  edges  over  the  upper  part  rf  the  ears,  bind- 
ing tlicm  to  the  head  with  an  easy  pressure.  She  said  to  Mar>-, 
tvho  was  complaining  that  Nettie's  ears  were  not  pretty : 
"  Nature  needs  a  little  aiding.  Let  her  wear  her  ribbons  this 
ay.  night  and  day,  until  she  is  seven  or  eight  years  old.  and 


hA 


1  '•  w 

,     I  It 


H 


112 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


you  will  have  conquered  the  defect  entirely.     And  this  fashion 
of  head-ribbon  is  becoming  to  her." 

"  Hester,"  said  Mary,  "you  used  to  condemn  dress  and  vanity 
so  much,  I  thouglit  you  would  call  it  foolish  to  care  about  good 
looks." 

"Beauty  is  a  gift  of  God,"  said  Hester;  "good  looks  are,  in 
themselves,  a  pleasure  to  all  beholders.     To  cultivate  good  looks 
or  personal  beauty  is  different  from  cultivating  vanity,  for  in 
proportion  as  self-conscious  vanity  comes  in,  really  good  looks 
vanish.     Since  God  is  right  in  sending  some  children  into  the 
world  beautiful,  and  all  with  some  elements  of  beauty,  we  are 
right  in  doing  all  that  we  can  to  aid  nature,  and  to  make  the 
personal  appearance  beautiful.     I  think  there  is  no  finer  sight 
than  to  see  gathered  about  the  table  a  beautiful  family;  there  is 
something  elevating  and   refining  in  that  very  beauty  if  it  is 
unmixed  with  low  vanity  and  self-display;  and  in  every  family 
there  will  be  more  or  less  of  this  beauty,  if  there  is  neatness, 
grace,  gentleness,  loving-kindness.    Plato  says :  '  Let  our  youth 
dwell  in  a  land  of  health,  amid  fair  sights  and  sounds,  and  beauty, 
the  effluence  of  fair  works,  will  meet  the  sense  like  a  breeze,  and 
insensibly  draw  the  soul,  even  in  childhood,  into  harmony  with 
beauty  and  reason.' " 

^      "Ah!"  said   Mary,  "what  a  pity  that  we  cannot  all    be 

beautiful!" 

"  We  can,"  said  Hester.  "  There  are  three  great  elements  of 
personal  beauty:  first,  healthfulness ;  second,  intelligence  of 
expression ;  third,  youthfulness.  By  cultivating,  then,  health  of 
body,  developing  our  minds  to  the  best  of  our  abilities,  and 
being  too  industrious,  patient  and  cheerful  to  get  fretful  and 
care-lined  and  old,  we  shall  always  be  very  beautiful.  And  in 
this  beauty,  parents  should  train  their  children." 

Helen  and  Hester  have  not  quite  ceased  their  early  disputa. 
tions.     One  day  we  were  all  going  to  visit  Cousin  Ann.     Hester 


"i*li 


CHILDREN  m  THE  FAMIL  Y. 


Ill 

put  on  Anna  a  clean  calico  frock  -,  nv      r 

wide-brimmed  hat-    R  .  ^      °^  '*°"*  ^''°^«  ^"d  a 

"iMunica  nat,    Helen  dresser!   I;hi«  t 

*ir,.,  wide  sash  and  Wd  boots     hI  ,'  '"  '^"'"•<"*'-'=d 

children  of  their  natun,!  rH,!  "T  "?'"'■''  """  ""=  "'"■P-cd 
care,  when  we  loaded    „  ,    1      ''  '"''''"'"■"">■  '''"^  "■<=<=  °f 

taKeeareoC     "A  J^^d  'f  ""    '  "".''"""^  '^'■'■^''  "^^  ™-' 
one-half  of  its  „1      ,1  ^      '  "T  "  '  ""•"'^  ''"'=  -■™'  - 

p.™.  Of  air  a„r:::  a^d  iii^t^zr  n'"  T"- 

*e.  sha„  te:;r  eir  7e"'£r:;,: "  "=^^"'  '^^' 

with  tlie  curse  of  the  F,ll      1  ,  "  """Ccessarily 

clothin,;  their  1  is^lTdr  L  '  '"^  '"""  """-^^'■' 
Clothes  as  they  eould  for^  and  h       '  ""  '"  "'  ""'' 

."  -.e  anselweep  d  '  I  see  .atlitTa '"'''  ^  ^''=""* 
Mne-year  old  miss  in  •  i^  n  ^  °'°"'""'  *='="  A 
fathers,  wateh Tn    d,  "'  '"='  =""  «— •  -« 

dred  rbllars  of  dress  as   he  27     ^    "^"  ""  "'  '"'""'  ''""- 

- ..."  waist,  paieret;  rdX'Zf  ^TdT  r  ?r: 

fed,  and  given  nice  rolls  <=,'  .  ''  ™  "'"  '''•'^'"^'='''  «" 
thing  a  nfothe"  "In  It  ",  "  "°'  "^"^^  *>'  '^e  best 
Helen's  o^  day  X  Id!  t'^™  "-''''^='^-  *=  "^  - 
"MammalwhatVIh,™  ■  ""  '"  "'*  ^  ^"-^  ^"«^ 

"  Tom,  pet !  your  feet  I  all  dusty  and— d„nV  t      i, 
'"'"  "r  -  ^.^'.-P^ay  throw*::  thingLVr^"  "^  "*' 


114 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


:1      J^ 


% 


"  But  what  is  it,  mamma  ?  what  is  it  ?  " 
"  Why,  I  don't  know,  child :  a  bit  of  cotton,  perhaps." 
Tom    looked    disappointed.      "Such   a   child,"   said    Helen: 
"  forever  asking  questions!  " 

Hester  took  Tom,  helped  herself  to  a  plate  and  tumbler,  went 
out  on  the  verandali,  made  a  large  spider  captive  and  returned 
Tom  screamed  at  the  spider. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Hester,  "  don't  be  a  silly  boy.  See  here: 
this  is  Mrs.  Spider.  She  is  a  mamma,  and  instead  of  three 
babies  like  your  mamma,  she  has  about  a  hundred.  To  keep 
her  babies  warm  and  dry,  she  spun  them  this  fuzzy  ball  which 
you  brought  in :  it  is  their  cradle.  Come  and  look  what  soft, 
yellow  silk  blankets  ;  peep  in  now,  while  I  pull  the  blanket  open; 
do  you  see  all  those  little  squirming  things?  Those  are  Mrs. 
Spider's  babies,  kicking  about  because  their  bed-clothes  are 
off  Those  little  shiny  balls  are  more  babies,  not  big  enough 
to  kick." 

"  Oh,  how  little !  will  they  grow  big?  "  cried  Tom. 
"  Yes,  they  will  be  as  big  as  their  mamma,  by-and-by." 
"  But  so  many !  they'll  run  all  over  the  house." 
"  No,  Tom,  as  they  begin  to  get  out,  rain  and  cold  will  kill 
some ;  the  birds  and  big  insects  will  eat  a  good  many,  and  so 
only  very  few  will  live  to  get  as  big  as  Spider  Mamma." 
"  Poor  weeny  .spiders  ;  let's  put  'em  all  out-doors  now." 
"Bless  me,"  said  Helen,  when  Hester  returned,  "you'd  be  a 
treasure  to  Tom,  if  you'd  satisfy  his  mind  that  way.' 

"  Dear  Helen,"  said  Hester,  "  it  is  j'oi/r  duty  to  satisfy  his 
mind.  If  you  teach  him  to  take  interest  in  natural  things,  talk 
to  hirvi,  and  fill  his  little  head  with  the  good  and  u.seful  and  tin. 
wonJcrs  of  God's  work,  yru  will  leave  little  room  in  it  for  vice 
and  folly  that  some  day  might  break  your  heart." 
'■  But  I've  no  time,  Hester,"  pleaded  Helen. 
"  Take  time  for  what  is  so  important.     Have  less  ruffles  and 


CHILDREN  m  THE  FAMILY.  jj, 

fancy  trimniings;  and  you  can  talk  to  him  while  you  sew  or 
nurse  the  baby ;  look  at  his  curiosities,  and  talk  of  them  " 
'  But  I  don't  know  about  all  these  wonders  of  nature  " 
"You  ..;.  know  easily  enough.     Newspapers  and  magazines 
are  fu  1  of  articles  on  natural  histo^^;  if  you  cannot  read  all  that 
■s  m  the  magazine,  omit  the  stones.     There  are  dozens  of  cheap 
I.tt.e  books  on  insects,  birds,  shells,  animals ;  feel  it  a  duty  to 
read  these  for  your  children's  sake.     Throw  away  the  novcN 
and  read  these.     I  think  fewer  wives  would  complain  of  loneli- 
ness :.  the  needful  absence  of  their  husbands,  and  their  own 
severance  from  society,  if  they  set  seriously  about  being  the 
companions  and   teachers  and    friends   of  their   children,  and 
makmg  these  children  companions  for  themselves.     Have  Mark 
put  up  two  or  three  low  shelves  in  the  back  of  the  hall,  and 
encourage  Tom  to  make  a  museum  there  of  h.s  wonderful  curi, 
os.t,es,.   .f  you  talk  with  him  about  them,  you  may  make  a 
Phdosopher  of  him,  at  least  you  will  make  him  an  observing 
and  happy  httle  boy.     In  all  your  work  it  would,  if  you  one! 
accustomed  yourself  to  it,  be  a  relief  to  your  own  mind  and  a 
grea    pleasure  also  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  your  child,  and 
develop  his  growing  thoughts." 

Helen  presently  began  complaining  how  destructive  Tom  was. 
Mrs.  Burr  had  come  in,  and  she  said:  "Trust  me,  Helen,  where 
there  ^  dcstructivcncss  there  Is  also  constructivcncss ;  yo.  can 

Z  ^'f;:':^7«^'"^  ^'''■"^-  by  giving  them  something  to 
-ke.     I  t  nnk  a  1  children,  but  especially  boys,  should  have 
-c,  sors  and  glue,  hammer,  nails,  knife,  boards,  paper  and  pa.ste 
and  let  them  mvent,  and  contrive,  and  manufacture:  you  will' 
toTers."  ■''  the,  prefer  putting  things  together  to  pulling  the. 

.r.;' ."'*;'  \  '?'."  '^  "^"^'^  b^  -'^h  children  provided  fn  that 
«>ie,    ubjcctca  licien. 

-They  ought  to  have  a  place  for  such  work:  a  corner  of  th« 


■    I  '■  till  J 


116 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


wood-shed  or  barn,  or  a  share  of  the  attic,  or  a  place  curtained 
off  somewhere  if  you  have  no  separate  room.  A  small  room 
over  a  kitchen,  a  room  with  a  stove-pipe  running  through  it  in 
winter,  is  a  choice  place  for  a  boy's  shop.  You  were  glad  when 
Tom  was  born  that  you  had  a  son:  don't  now  wish  that  he  was 
a  girl ;  or  what  is  as  foolish,  wish  that  he  developed  like  a  girl 
into  sewing  and  doll-playing.  The  boy  spirit  will  out,  and  it  is 
yours  to  guide  it  aright." 

"I  often  think  I  am  foolish,"  said  Helen,  "to  worry  over  Tom's 
ways,  his  noise,  and  curiosity  and  mischief.  You  have  no  idea 
how  misciiievous  he  is." 

"I  remember,"  I  said,  "that  Cousin  Ann  told  me  how  mis- 
chievous Fred  was  when  he  first  ran  alone.  One  day  his  father 
was  shaving,  getting  ready  for  church;  he  had  a  new  high  silk 
hat  on  the  table ;  he  heard  a  crash :  Fred  had  taken  the  hat  and 
turning  it  crown  upward  had  made  a  seat  of  it.  His  father 
flcv;  to  rescue  the  hat,  and  while  he  tried  to  straighten  it,  he 
looked  up,  and  there  was  Fred,  razor  in  hand,  getting  ready  to 
shave." 

"What  ever  did  she  do  with  such  a  child?"  cried  Helen. 

"She  said  she  reasoned  that  here  was  the  result  of  great  ener- 
gies and  an  active  mind.  The  child  must  have  an  outlet  for 
these  in  work,  study  and  play.  She  kept  him  employed  picking 
up  chips,  setting  the  shoes  in  the  closet  in  rows,  feeding  chickens, 
observing  the  habits  of  birds,  making  lamp-lighters,  even  string- 
ing buttons ;  and  finally  secured  a  habit  of  directing  his  energies 
to  useful  labor,  rather  than  to  mischief.  Believe  me,  Helen,  we 
have  not  fulfilled  our  part  to  our  children,  when  they  are  fed, 
nursed  and  clothed:  wc  must  teach  them.  And  we  have  not 
done  our  part  in  teaching  when  we  have  taught  them  their  pray- 
ers, their  alphabet,  to  sew,  to  count,  and  have  then  sent  them 
to  school.  Wc  must  guide  their  energies  into  proper  outlet^ 
and  never  weary  in  informing  their  minds." 


m 


CHILDREN  m  THE  FAMILY.  jjy 

"And,"  said  Mrs.  Burr,  "we  must  build  them  up  in  honesty 
unselfishness,  kindness,  industry,  purit;-  of  mind  and  word  "  ' 
"And,"  added  Hester,  "all  these  virtues  must  rest  on  the 
foundation  stone  oi  obedience,  regard  for  law.  I  remember  Plato 
says:  'Our  youths  should  be  educated  in  a  stricter  rule  fronx 
the  first,  for  if  education  becomes  lawless,  and  the  youths  them- 
selves  become  lawless,  they  can  never  grow  up  into  well-coa- 
aucted  and  virtuous  citizens.' " 


'-% 


Ill 


CHAPTER  V. 

SICKNESS  IN  THE   HOME. 
AUNT   SOPHRONIA   ON   NURSING   AND   HEALTH-PRESERVING. 

HEARD  a  foolish  neighbor  once  remark,  that  he  always 
felt  angry  at  sick  peop'e— that  sickness  was  a  mere  out- 
^^^  come  of  wickedness.  God  made  people  to  be  healthy, 
^  and  when  they  were  not  so,  it  was  because  they  had  been 
violating  some  plain  principle  of  life,  "doing  something  that 
they  ought  not  to  have  done,  or  leaving  undone  those  things 
which  they  ought  to  have  done— and  there  is  no  health  in  them : " 
he  quoted  the  prayer-book  right  then  and  there.  I  felt  quite 
provoked  at  him,  and  I  said:  "My  good  friend,  you'll  have  to 
carry  some  of  your  anger  as  far  back  as  Adam,  to  find  a  suitable 
f  bject,  because  .sickness  is  part  of  the  curse  of  the  Fall,  and  is 
the  seed  of  death,  which  Adam  brought  into  the  world.  Do 
you  remember  what  Christ  said  about  the  man  that  was  born 
blind?  'Neither  did  this  man  sin,  nor  his  parents,  that  he  was 
born  blind,'  meaning  that  the  blindness  was  the  fruit  of  no 
especial  wickedness  in  them." 

However,  as  I  calmly  consider  it,  I  see  that  there  was  a  grain 
of  .sen.«e  in  my  neighbor's  ob.servations  ;  there  is  in  mo.st  people's, 
and  I  must  relieve  my  mind  by  saying  that  there  is  not  w/.w 
than  a  grain  of  sense  in  most  people's  talk.  Stil!  the  more  I 
thmk  upon  it.  the  more  clearly  I  sec  that  sickness,  especially 
epidemics,  and  diseases  of  a  kind  which  seize  upon  whole  families, 
or  recur  frequently  -.i  the  .same  families,  are  often,  perhaps  nearly 

always,  the  result  of  some  ijnorancc  or  carclessne:.:j  of  our  owa 
(118) 


4. 


r 


.«r;^ 


SICKNESS  IN  THE  HOME.  jjg 

We  do  not  half  understand  the  laws  of  health;  we  do  not  study 
half  carefully  enough  the  needs  and  dangers  of  our  own  bodies  • 
we  do  not  half  enough  respect  our  bodies,  which  we  should 
chensh  and  regard  as  homes  of  immortal  spirits,  and  especially 
because,  ,f  we  will  have  it  so,  God  himself  condescends  to 
tb.de  m  his  people,  and  to  use  humanity  for  his  service.  That 
IS  a  poor  form  of  religion  which  affects  to  despise  the  body  that 
God  made  in  his  own  iniao-e. 

When  I  read  the  biographies  of  such  men  as  Martyn  Payson 
Brainerd  and  others,  who  have  done  great  good  in  the  world' 
but,  doing  it  burdened  by  feeble  bodies,  finally  died  prematurely 
and  so  deprived  humanity  of  much  more  good  which  they  might 
have  done  had  they  lived  to  the  ordinary  limit  of  human  life  I 
consider  their  evident   neglect  of  their  bodies,  their  rccklJss 
exposure  to  fatigue  and  storms,  their  depriving  them  of  proper 
nourishment,  a  positive  crime.     Many  good  men  have  so  lived 
that  they  made  it  impossible  for  God  to  spare  them  for  longer 
work,  except  by  a  miracle,  so  did  they  contravene  the  laws  a^^nd 
despise  the  lights  of  nature.     In  this  present  day,  possibly,  there 
IS  too  much  devotion  to  purely  physical  culture,  and  good  men 
indulge  their  bodies  too  much,  and  devote  to  their  comfort  too 
large  a  proportion  of  their  thoughts  and  efforts.    There  is  a  happy 
mean  to  be  attained,  and  toward  that  we  should  move.     Sickly 
bodies  very  often  produce  feeble  brains,  bad  manners,  and  bad 
morals.    This  is  especially  true  where  the  feebleness  of  body 
begins    in    childhood;    the    weakly   child    cannot   learn   with 
zeal  and  ple-':ure:  it  is  peevish  and  cowardly;  a  house  full  of 
sickly  children  is  .  house  full  of  cares,  anxious  and  overtaxed 
parents,  -onfusion.  and  often   poverty,  induced   by  the  heavy 
expenses  of  illness.     The  Home  can  only  be  really  bright  and 


m 


orderly  where  there  is  general  health  and 


and  father  works  at 
daily  toil  wearied  with 


vigor     A  husband 


u  great  disadvantage,  who  goes  out  to  his 
a  wakeful  night  by  a  sick-bed,  and  bur* 


:| 


« 


I 


;  ff| 


1, 


! 


<l 


120 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


dcned  with  anxiety  for  the  patients  left  behind  him.  In  God's 
providence  such  seasons  occur  in  most  homes,  but  it  is  also  in 
God's  providence  that  wc  should  strive  to  have  them  occur  as 
seldom  as  possible. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  ancients  very  appropriately  had  a  god- 
dess as  well  as  a  god  of  health  and  the  healing  art,  inasmuch  as 
Ihe  care  and  preservation  of  health  comes  so  largely  within  the 
natural  .sphere  of  woman.  Vigorous  constitutions  can  be  built 
up  in  well-conducted  homes,  and  this  even  when  the  natural 
constitution  is  feeble.  I  have  done  in  my  time  a  great  deal  of 
talking  on  the  subject  of  healthful  homes.  At  Mrs.  Black's 
some  one  is  sick  half  or  more  than  naif  the  time ;  I  visited  Mrs. 
Black  once  to  offer  any  service  in  my  power,  when  two  of  her 
daughters  were  ill.  Mrs.  Black  said:  "It  is  impossible  to  keep 
well  in  this  world  where  there  are  so  many  things  to  induce 
disease."  I  replied :  "We  must  not  blame  the  world  too  rashly, 
Mrs.  Black,  for  we  shall  find  that  while  there  are  many  things 
to  induce  disease,  there  are  just  as  many  to  produce  good 
health." 

"Look  at  our  changeful  climates:  hot  one  ('ly.cold  the  next* 

"True;  but  if,  summer  and  winter,  we  would  wear  a  flannel 
garment  next  the  skin,  varying  the  thickness  of  the  garment  with 
the  change  of  season,  we  should,  provided  we  kept  the  feet  in 
sufficiently  thick  shoes,  very  seldom  be  affected  by  the  changes 
in  the  temperature." 

"As  for  flannel,"  said  Mrs.  Black,  "my  girls  won't  wear  it;  it 
makes  them  look  so  stout  and  full  about  the  chest  and  waist." 

"I  hope  the  day  will  come,"  I  replied,  "when  a  wasp-waist 
»nd  a  pair  of  thin  shoulders  will  not  be  esteemed  beauty:  we 
have  had  our  ideas  ruined  by  tra.sh  novels,  praising  'fragile 
forms'  and 'delicate  beauty,'  'dainty  waists,' 'snow-drop  faces,' 
and  a  lot  of  other  nonsense.  What  prospect  have  such  beauties 
of  seeing  threc-scurc,  or  what  physique  arc  their  sons  likely  to 


rod- 


SICK/^ESS  IN   THE  HOME. 


121 


possess  ?     Indeed,  Mrs.  Black,  I  think  you  should  have  made  it 
a  matter  of  course,  from  infancy,  that  your  children  wore  flannel 
under-garments.     Really,  there   is   nothing   cheaper,    safer    or 
f\  "^«;^  .^-'"^^rtable.     I  knew  a  young  .girl  whose  two  elder  sisters 

I  \  had  died  with  consumption ;  symptoms  of  the  disease  appeared 

m  her :  a  friend  took  her  to  a  famous  physician.    He  said  •  '  She 
had  better  be  sent  to  the  south  of  France.'     The  lady  replied  • 
Doctor,  her  parents  are  absolutely  unable  to  take  her  away  from 
home;  they  have  not  the  means.'     The  doctor  meditated :  it  was 
November:  'Has  she  flannel  on?'     No.  the  young  lady  did  not 
l.ke  flannel.     'Take  her  home.'  said  the  doctor,  'and  put  her  in 
heavy  flannel  from  her  neck  to  her  toes,  and  see  that  she  wears 
it  w,th  some  variation  as  to  quality,  twelve  months  in  the  year' 
The  order  was  obeyed,  and  for  ten  years  she  has  been  in  good 
health."  ^ 

'|And  there  is  another  means  of  health-preserving,  Mrs.  Black 
which  we  greatly  neglect-.««./„«..  p,enty  of  sunshine  is  a 
v.ry  wine  of  life.  We  should  let  it  fall  broadly  into  our  rooms 
especially  where  we  eat,  sit  and  sleep.  Nine  months  in  the  year 
our  windows  should  daily  stand  broadly  open  for  a  sun-bath 
In  our  hot  summers,  our  homes  seem  to  get  saturated  with 
sunshme,  unless  our  houses  are  very  thickly  shaded  by  vines  and 
trees  and  possibly  then  two  hours  of  early  morning  sunshine 
will  be  enough." 

"  But,  my  dear  Miss  Sophronia,  it  ruins  the  carpets  " 
"  Better  sacrifice  the  carpets  than  the  health :  we  are  too  much 
he  slaves  of  crrpets;  if  I  could  not  have  the  carpet  and  the  sun 
I  would  give  up  the  carpet.  The  sunbeams  hold  no  spores  of 
disease:  carpets  frequently  do;  sunbeams  have  no  dust,  danger, 
ous  to  weak  lungs :  carpets  do.  But.  Mrs.  Black,  a  drugget  or 
a  carpet-cove,  or  even  a  coarse  sheet  can  be  flung  over  the  ^a. 
pet .  It  needs  protecting;  and  then  let  in  tho.e  invigorating  ravs. 
which  God  meant  should  coMnt.ract  disease.     I  believe  many 


.t  a 


%\\ 


<A 


^fW- 


122 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


diseases  can  be  cured  by  merely  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  sun- 
shine." 

Mrs.  Black  was  dwelling  on  my  heterodoxy  as  to  carpets. 
"Dear  Miss  Sophronia!   banish  carpets!  bare  floors!     What 
would  you  do?     How  would  you  live?" 

"  Mrs.  Black,  it  seems  to  me  that  we  do  not  sufficiently  value 
mattings,  especially  in  bed-rooms.  They  are  free  from  dust ;  of 
a  good  quality,  they  wear  a  long  time;  they  are  easy  to  sweep; 
they  look  clean ;  and  the  sun  does  not  harm  them :  remember, 
they  grew  under  tropic  suns;  they  have  no  harmful  (^ye-stufifs  in 
them.  Some  object  that  they  are  cold,  but  this  can  be  obviated 
by  rugs  laid  before  the  bed,  washstand  and  bureau.  Let  me 
tell  you  my  experience :  I  spent  a  year  once,  while  my  house 
was  being  built,  with  my  half-sister  in  tlie  city.  She  treated  me 
royally;  my  bed-rO'im  was  dressed  in  rose  and  gray  French 
chintz,  rose-tinted  wall-paper,  and  had  a  rose-colored  velvet  car- 
pet. It  was  altogether  too  fine  for  the  sun  to  shine  in  :  the  sun 
would  ruin  it.  A  furnace,  with  air-feeders  from  out  of  doors, 
kept  the  house  warm  and  dry ;  but  nevertheless  I  was  a  martyr 
to  rheumatism.  Cousin  Ann,  hearing  this,  sent  for  me  to  spend 
the  next  winter  w  .h  her  at  the  farm.  My  room  had  white- 
washed walls,  white  curtains,  a  white  counterpane  and  white 
matting." 

"Goodness!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Black,  "I  should  think  it  would 
have  made  you  think  of  a  whited  sepulchre!" 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  retorted :  "  its  conditions  were  such  that  it  was 
unlikely  to  have  in  it  either  rottenness  or  dead  men's  bones. 
Color  was  lent  it  by  three  or  four  bright  rugs  and  a  colored 
set  of  toilette  mats,  with  a  few  pictures.  I  kept  wondering  why 
that  simple  room  looked  VLndfclt  so  beautiful.  I  perceived  that 
the  floods  of  sunshine,  which,  during  the  whole  day,  poured  in 
at  one  of  its  three  bright  windows  lent  it  its  chief  charm.  My 
health  Wus  perfectly  restored." 


i 


S/CA'Ar£SS  m  THE  HOME.  .^, 

J  Weil  '■  said  Mrs.  Black,  "  .y  g.Vls  would  rather  be  sick  half 

the  t.me  than  get  well  by  wearing  flannels  and  stout  shoes  and 

rhere  ,s   no  beauty  in  a   sallow,  sickly  complexion,  and   if 

d.gest,on  W.11  run.  their  teeth;  ill  health  will  n.ake  their  faces 
wa..  and  faded;  their  color  will  be  lost;  their  hair  will  bed; 
and  th:n;  at  twenty-five  they  will  look  ten  years  older-  they 
2  W.  a  Netted,  disappointed,  troubled  expression,  and  t^^^ 
always  feel  dispirited  and  uncomfortable  " 

However,  there  is  no  use  talking  with  Mrs.  Black.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  her  girls  are  so  captious,  and  look  so  feeble.  Thin! 
soled  shoes,  no  flannel,  no  exercise,  ve,y  little  fresh  air.  and 
almost  no  sunshme  m  their  house;  and  this  record  might  do  for 
very  many  other  families.  t.        "  lor    . 

When  Miriam  and  Helen  set  up  housekeeping  I  esneciallv 
.rged  on  them  the  advantages  of  fresh  air  in  thei;  IZ^ 
plenty  of  sunsliinc.    I  said : 

■•Do,,'t  have  any  shut-up  r„„„s  and  corners  in  your  homes 
^    ree    pestienco,  snn  and  air  .„e  roon,s  .„a.  are  unused" 
wel  as  .hose  that  arc  used.     Remember,  a  housekeeper  is    he 
health-keeper  of  her  household,-  her  vijilanee  should  e..te„d 
over  the  whole  house  from  garret  to  cellar.     The  housekeeper 
hou Id  v,s,t  her  garret  to  see  that  it  h.as  ventilation,  and  is  not  a 
ght-bo,.  to  be  crowded  with  bad  air  and  fumes  rising  fron, 
he  other  parts  of  the  house,  and  being  packed  there  to  cominne 
the,r  corruption,  and  come  down   in   unexpected  puff,-   the 
garret  should  be  kept  free  from  dust,  and  should  have  a  la'tti*! 
wn,d„w  ahv,ay,  „p,.„;  or,  if  you  hav.  not  that  and  cannot  have 
*,  have  a  small  window,  or  half  a  wmdow,  with  a  piece  of  stota 


fl^  1 1 


124 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


muslin  nailed  tightly  over  it:  that  will  secure  ventilation  and 
sufficiently  turn  rain. 

"  When  a  wise  man  goes  abroad,  he  puts  a  hat  on  his  head 
and  shoes  on  his  feet,  protecting  both  extremities.  Don't  forget 
the  feet  of  your  house — feet  planted  in  the  cellar :  have  a  clean 
cellar  and  a  dry  cellar.  I  should  have  the  cellar  lime-washed, 
drained,  and  made  dry,  if  I  went  without  a  parlor  sofa  or  a  best 
set  of  china  to  be  able  to  get  the  means  for  these  improvements." 
"Upon  my  word,  aunt,"  said  Helen,  "I  thought  Hannah 
could  be  trusted  with  the  cellar'' 

"  Not  :.-  bit  of  it,  my  dear ;  she  could  much  more  safely  be 
trusted  with  the  parlor;  she  would  take  more  interest  in  that, 
and  could  better  appreciate  the  need  of  tidy  dusting  to  make  a 
place  fit  for  callers,  than  the  need  of  cellar-cleaning  to  make  a 
house  healthful.     You  have  a  swing-shelf:  suppose  a  bowl  of 
gravy  is  there  upset  and  left  to  mould;  that  in  a  corner  of  the 
floor  half  a  peck  of  small  potatoes  are  loft  to  sprout  long,  sickly 
stems ;  that  on  a  box  a  few  cabbage-leaves  hastily  stripped  from 
the  head  lie  rotting;  that  an  odd  turnip,  carrot,  beet,  parsnip  or 
two  are  also  decaying  here   and   there.     All  of  these  things 
generate  disease ;  from  this  vegetable  decay,  housed  in  a  cellar, 
which  Plannah  never  thinks  to  air,  there  will  float  into  your 
pretty  bed-room,  your  immaculate  parlor,  spores  of  fever  and 
sore  throat.     Your  milk  and  butter,  brought  from  this  poisoned 
cellar,  are   mysteriously  corrupted   before  you   eat  them,  and 
they  vitiate  your  blood.     You  should  visit  your  cellar  at  least 
every  other  day.     If  the  potatoes  begin  to  sprout,  you  should 
have  the  sprouts  rubbed  off  and  carried  away,  not  left  to  die  in 
the  cellar.     Every  week  the  shelf  should  be  scrubbed  with  hot 
soda-water  or  soft  soap-suds,   the   floor  swept,   the   windows 
opened  for  a  thorough  airing;  not  a  scrap  of  animal  or  vege- 
table matter  should  be  left  there  to  decay.     Trust  me,  Helen,  a 
ceFiar  is  a  very  important  part  of  the  house,  and  a  house  cannot 
De  healthy  whore  there  is  an  ill-kept  cellar." 


S/C/CA'ESS  m  THE  HOME,  io.- 

I  was  very  glad  that  Mark  and  Miriam  realized  the  necessities 
»rvent,lation  and  thorough  drainage.     The  drain,  which  carried 
off  the  water  from  the  washing,  sloped  well,  and  ran  some  dis- 
tance from  the  house.     I  have  seen  people  fling  washing-suds 
out  close  to  their  houses.     "  What  odds  clean  suds  ?  -  they  cry. 
It  seems    to   me   that   the  suds  which  our  soiled  clothes  are 
washed  in  cannot  be  very  clean;  and  as  we  know  that  tie  suds 
wh.ch   garments    of  small-pox,  cholera   and   fever-patients  are 
washed  in  contain  the  germs  of  the  disease,  and  cast  upon  the 
ground  are  likely  to  breed  that  disease  in  their  locality  so  we 
might  suppose  that  many  of  the  lesser  ailments  of  our 'bodies 
contribute  their  share  of  disease  germs,  which  can  do  harm  in 
the.r  own  proportion,  through  the   decaying  suds  of  a  family 
v/ashmg.    A/ain.  some  very  tidy  housekeepers  do  not  realize  the 
excessive  caution  that  should  be  used  with  sinks  and  drains 
where  bath-water,  dish-water  and  scrubbing-water  are  cast  out' 
More  diseases  than  we  now  suspect  are  propagated  by  minute' 
spores.     It  ,s  about  a  century  since  the  "germ  theory"  of  dis-^ 
ease  was  first  announced,  and  we  are  daily  learning  more  and 
more,  that  as   the   air   is   filled  with   spores  of  co'ptogamous 
plants,  d.stributing  fungus  and  all  varieties  of  mould,  so  is  the 
air  filled  with  floating  particles  of  disease,  gathered  not  only 
by  swamps  and  sick-bed.,  and  by  sloughs  of  confessedly  and 
notoriously  unclean  matter,  but  very  often  from  places  which 
we  suppose  to  be  clean  and  safe.     Dr.  Richardson  tells  us  that 
the   spores   of  small-pox.  yellow,  typhoid   and   scarlet  fever, 
cholera,  diphtheria,  measles,  and  kindred  diseases  are  so  small' 
that  twenty  thousand  of  them,  end  to  end,  would  not  reach  the 
length  of  an  inch;  fifty  million  might  be  put  in  a  cubic  inch 
Yet  each  spore  could  create  its  own  disease  in  a  human  frame 
faUmg  on  some  tissue  irritated  by  cold,  or  inflamed,  or  weakened' 
or  even  normally  healthy, 

I  had  a  talk  once  with   Miriam  on  the  subject  of  sal-soda. 


W  il 


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TffE   COMrLETE  HOME. 

which  talk  Miriam  thought  very  beneficial  to  her.    I  said  to  her. 
"  Miriam," — for  I  was  with  her  in  the  kitchen,  where  she  was 
making  pics,  and  I  was  knitting  by  the  window — "  Miriam,  there 
is  hardly  a  more  valuable  agent  in  household  cleanliness  than 
sal-soda.     It  is  very  cheap,  from  two  to  four  cents  a  pound.     If 
you  put  a  pound  of  it  in  a  gallon  of  water  and  throw  half  a  tea^ 
cup  of  this  solution  into  your  dish-water  once  a  day,  say  at  din- 
ner, you  will  find  the  trouble  of  dish-washing  reduced  one-half, 
as  the  soda  destroys  the  grease :  your  dish-cloth  or  mop  would 
be  kept  white  and  pure  with  very  little  rubbing:  you  would  save 
soap,  and  you  could  more  easily  keep  your  sink  and  its  drain 
clean.     Your  sink  is  scrubbed  beautifully  clean,  but  you  cannot 
so  scour  the  pipe  which  carries  out  the  water.     The  particles  of 
animal  and  vegetable  matter  in  the  dish-water,  the  grease  which 
it  contains,  adhere  by  degrees  to  the  sides  of  the  pipe,  coat  it, 
and  there  corrupt.     You  scald  the  sink  with  hot  soap-suds,  that 
pass  into  the  pipe  and  are  a  help  in  removing  this  decayed 
matter,  but  cannot  remove  all  of  it.     If  the  pipe  is  metal,  the , 
decay   unites   with   the   metal  and   produces  mineral   as  well 
as  animal  and  vegetable   poison.     A  current  of  air  drives  up 
through  the  pipe,  and  carries  with  it  viewless  atoms  of  violent 
poison  and  dangerous  decay,,  and  they  tremble  in  the  air  of  your 
house :  or  ever  you   are  aware,  they  have  entered  your  nose, 
throat  and  stomach.     These  atoms  can  produce  influenza,  diph- 
theria, fever.    Therefore,  at  all  cost,  let  us  have  these  drain-pipes 
clean.    The  sal-soda  in  your  dish-water  will  here  be  a  great  help, 
devouring  the  grease  in  the  dish-water  and  on  the  sides  of  the 
pipe.     Twice  a  week  take  some  strong  boiling  salsoda  water 
and  pour  it  slowly  down  your  sink.    Once  a  month  at  least  treat 
it  in  this  way  with  concentrated    lye-water;  boiling   soft-soap 
suds   is   also   very   valuable  for   this    use.     Cousin   Ann,  who 
always  has  a  leech  of  ashes  F,e1-  up,  mixes  boiling  water  and 
strong  lye,  and  pours  it  through  her  drains  once  a  week :  she 


SICKNESS  IN  THE  HOME. 


127 


uses  a  Tittle  lye-watcr  instead  of  the  sal-soda  for  her  dishes  also. 
A  little  sal-soda  water  used  in  scouring  tables,  floors  which 
are  unpainted,  pie-boards,  rolling-pins,  and  other  woodenware, 
keeps  them  immaculately  clean  at  small  cost  in  trouble  and 
expense." 

I  noticed  what  Mrs.  Burr  said  one  day  in  regard  to  the  health 
of  Homes.     "  We  have  yet  to  come  to  a  realizing  sense  of  the 
danger  to  our  health  that  lies  in  decaying  things.     Decay  is  part 
of  death ;  atoms  of  decay  planted  in  the  tissues  of  our  bodies 
are  so  many  seeds  of  death.     And  yet  how  are  we  surrounded 
by  this  decay,  and  unconscious  or  careless  of  it !     We  use  the 
same  wall-paper  for  years,  or  leave  a  whitewashed  wall,  season 
after  season,  untouched.      In  these  walls,  especially  in  those 
hung  with  paper,  are  planted  atoms  of  corruption  breathed  out 
by  sick   people,  wafted  from  beds   of  fever,  gathered  out  of 
malarious  air.    Shelves,  sinks,  drains,  wooden  vessels  are  washed, 
and  look  clean,  but  buried  in  their  fibre  is  corrupting  animal 
or  vegetable  matter.     T'     aly  housekeepers,  of  course,  will  be 
sure  to  have  perfectly  clean  dish-cloths,  towels  and  kettle-cloths; 
and  yet  hundreds  who  would  resent  being  called  dirty  have  a 
mass  of  filthy  rags  tucked  into  corners  for  use  in  the  kitchen, 
and  around  cooking  vessels,  any  rag  of  which  is  foul  enough  to 
breed  a  pestilence.     More  than  half  our  servants  doat  on  a  pot- 
closet  as  a  convenient  dust-hole,  and  few  of  them  are  so  cleanly 
that  their  mistresses  may  be  exempted  from  a  personal  inspection 
of  that  locality.     The  soap-grease  firkin  and  the  swill-pail  be- 
come  centres  of  corruption,  and  before  we  know  it  the  cistern, 
built,  as  most  of  them  are,  without  a  filter,  becomes  deadly. 
A  housekeeper  needs  the  hundred  eyes  of  Argus  to  see  that  her 
home  is  free  from  these  dangers.     And  why  not  ?     Argus  was 
merely  watching  golden  apples,  but  the  housewife  is  set  on  guard 
over  the  health  of  husband,  children  and  guests." 

When  children  came  into  the  homes  of  Miriam  and  Helen, 


„  R«  1 


M 


128 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME, 


m 


and  other  of  my  young  friends  and  relations,  I  felt  more  than 
ever  anxious  that  they  should  know  how  to  preserve  the  health- 
fulness  of  their  homes.  I  was  talking  to  Cousin  Ann  about  this 
one  day,  when  she  laughed  and  said  she  would  make  my  nieces, 
Mary  Smallcy,  and  some  other  of  the  young  folks,  a  present.  A 
fcw  weeks  after  she  sent  them  each  a  large  card,  with  a  few  lines 
handsomely  printed  upon  it,  thus: 

HOW   TO    HAVE  A   HEALTHFUL   HOUSE. 

Have  plenty  of  sunshine  in  your  living  rooms. 

Keep  the  whole  house  well  aired. 

Have  a  clean  garret,  well  ventilated. 

Have  a  perfectly  clean,  dry  cellar. 

Renew  whitewash  and  wall-paper  often. 

Have  every  drain  clean  and  carried  far  from  the  house. 

Allow  no  decaying  refuse  near  the  house. 

Keep  the  walls  and  floors  dry. 

Use  freely,  in  cleaning,  lye,  ammonia,  and  sal-soda. 

Use  freely  lime,  especially  as  whitewash. 

I  took  one  of  these  cards  in  triumph  to  Mary  Smalley;  it  was 
about  a  year  after  she  married  Samuel  Watkins,  as  fine  a  young 
fellow  as  one  would  wish  to  see.  Mary  was  nursing  little  Nettie, 
and  I  sat  down  with  her  in  the  kitchen.  It  was  a  lovely  June 
afternoon.  The  honeysuckle  vine  over  the  porch  was  in  bloom; 
the  door-step  and  the  yard  around  were  clean  as  a  broom  could 
make  them;  the  kitchen  floor  was  well  painted  in  yellow,  and 
Maiy's  favorite  mats  were  scattered  about,  and  a  pretty  cover 
of  her  manufacture  was  over  a  little  stand  by  the  window. 
Mary  had  followed  her  own  good  taste  in  many  of  her  arrange- 
ments, and  she  had  taken  example  also  by  Miriam,  who  had 
•  been  very  friendly  to  her. 

She  had  taken  a  girl  of  about  twelve  from  an  asylum  to  help 
ber  in  the  house,  and  this  girl  was  out  under  an  apple  tree  scou^ 


SICICmSS   LV  THE   IfOME.  jgg 

mg  tins.     The  whole  house  and  its  environs  made  a  pretty  pic- 
ture of  comfort,  thrift  and  content.     I  said  as  much  to  MaX 

We  get  on  very  nicely."  said  Mary.  '•  I  do  not  get  my  work 
done  quite  as  easily  as  Mrs.  Rogers;  but  then  she  had  not  the 
cows  and  the  chickens  and  the  farm-hands,  as  I  have.  But 
thanks  to  mother's  teaching  me  how  to  work,  and  Mrs.  Rogers 
showmg  me  good  methods  of  doing  it,  I  succeed  very  well  •' 

I  gave  Mary  the  card:  she  read  it  and  was  well  pleased;'  but 
after  lookmg  at  it  for  a  time,  she  said : 

"This  tells  us  how  to  have  a  healthy  house;  but  is  that  aU 
we  need  to  know  to  have  healthy  children  ?  Let  her  tell  us  how 
we  must  take  care  of  them-to  have  them  hearty  and  healthy  io 
this  healthy  house."  ^ 

I  thought  Mary's  point  was  very  well  made,  so  I  said  • 
"Truly.  Mary,  you  are  interesting  yourself  in  a  subject  which 
should  occupy  eveo^  mother's  thoughts.  I  will  .speak  to  Cousin 
Ann  on  the  matter,  and  see  what  information  she  can  give  you  " 
I  went  out  accordingly  to  visit  Cousin  Ann,  and  as  we  sat 
comfortably  together  between  dinner  and  tea.  I  took  from  my 
pocket  a  b.  of  Doctor  Guthrie's  writing,  and  read  to  her  I 

"With  care  and  prudence  human  life  maybe  extended  con- 
s.derably  beyond  the  ordinary  period.  The  truth  is,  ^..  people 
d.e  a  natural  death.  Sou.  are  murdered  ;  but  the  greate  pTrt 
who  have  arnved  at  years  of  discretion,  cmn.it  a  soft  of  suicide' 
tl-ugh  the.  neglect  of  the  ordinary  rules  of  health,  or  their' 
injudicious  use  of  meat,  drink,  or  medicine  " 

t.Z^bur".'"""'"^f  ^"""  ^^""'^^-^'"^  '-spec, 
taclcs      but  a  large  part  of  the  human  race  do  not  arrive  at 

years  o  discretion:  those  who  die  in  childhood.  I  suppose  Doc 
or  Guthne  would  set  down  as  murdered  after  a  sort,  namely,  by 

r  ii»u!-.^,;.tion  uJ  parents. 

"^iul  doubtless,  cousin,  the  foundation  of  living  in  a  se.n^nc 


Viii^t 


130 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


old  age,  'beyond  the  ordinary  I'mit  of  human  years,'  is  laid  in 
infancy,  by  careful  physical  culture." 

"  Be  sure  it  is.  I  dj\'oted  my  cares  to  securing  health  for  my 
children  from  their  first  breath." 

"And  very  likely  you  found  your  cares  more  efficient  and 
judicious  for  your  sixth  child  than  for  your  first." 

"Certainly;  else  where  would  Lc  the  good  of  experience  ?  " 
"And  if,  in  the  babyhood  of  >'our  first  child,  some  well-expe- 
rienced mother  had  given  you  the  benefit  of  her  observations,  it 
might  have  been  exceedingly  useful  to  you,  and  yours." 

"  Yes,  certainly;  only  in  a  measure,  rules  being  laid  down,  we 
must  learn  to  apply  them  for  ourselves.  Still,  good  rules  are 
of  unspeakable  value." 

"  Well,  Cousin  Ann,  these  young  mothers  among  our  friends 
want  to  g'-t  the  benefit  of  your  experience,  and  desire  that  you 
should  g've  them  some  instructions  in  regard  to  training  physi- 
cally their  little  ones." 

"Bless  me,  Sophronia,"  said  Cousin  Ann;  "as  far  as  that 
goes,  you  have  looked  into  the  subject  of  health-keeping  as 
fully  as  I  have,  and  can  tell  them  all  they  need  to  know." 

"That  may  be,  cousin.  Yet,  as  you  have  raised  six  hearty 
children,  the  advice  might  come  with  more  weight  and  authority 
from  your  lips  than  from  mine,  even  though  the  advice  was 
identical  in  both  cases." 

So  after  a  little  talking  Cousin  Ann  agreed  to  make  a  tea- 
party  and  afternoon  visit  for  our  young  friends,  and  I  went 
around  with  the  invitations.  They  came  early,  and  were  all 
expectation  to  hear  Cousin  Ann's  advice. 

"Come,"  said  Helen,  "we  expect  to  be  packed  full  of  learn- 
ing which  shall  benefit  our  descendants  at  least  to  the  fourth 
generation.     Begin.  Cousin  Ann  ;  time  is  not  tarrying." 
'"How  am   I   to  begin?"  asked  Cousin  Ann.    "Upon  my 

r  where  to  com 


word,  I  don't  know  what  I  ou[ 


say, 


mence. 


SICKNESS  IN  THE  HOME.  joj 

"Be-in  at  the  beginning,"  said   Miriam.     "Here  are  these 
tA'ssed   babies;   they  are   dading   little   animals  which    spend 
^    half  their  time  in  eating,  and  the  other  half  in  sleeping,  and  if 
there  is  any  time  left  over,  they  occupy  it  in  staring  about." 

"They  act  as  nature  dictates,"  said  Cousin  Ann,  "and  which 
tvork— eating  or  sleeping— is  the  niore  important  I  cannot  tell. 
As  to  tlie  sleeping,  strive  to  promote  it,  for  by  it  a  babe  grows. 
Never  let  rude  noises  rouse  it;  let  no  pride  in  displaying  the 
child,  no  neighborly  curiosity,  call  it  from  slumber;  let  it  sleep 
in  silence,  and  in  a  room  moderately  darkened ;  have  an  abso- 
lutely regular  time  for  putting  it  to  sleep  at  night,  whether  it 
seems  sleepy  or  not :  habit  is  all-powerful.  At  that  bed-time 
strip  off  all  its  day-garments,  don't  leave  for  night  even  a  shirt 
worn  in  -I  ;.  .  and  let  the  child  sleep  in  flannel  which  is  clean, 
and  di  ic  day  has  been  well-aired  and  sunned.      Some 

children  dirive  on  a  batli  both  at  rising  and  at  bed-time ;  some 
are  better  only  for  the  morning-bath.     If  the  child  is  not  fully 
bathed  at  night,  wash  its  head  well  in  cold  water,  and  rub  the 
whole  body  briskly  with  your  hand  or  a  soft  towel :  this  pro- 
motes circulation  and  induces   .-ilumbcr.     Until  a  child  is  six 
years  old,  encourage  it  to  sleep  late  in  the  morning,  for  the  first 
years  of  a  child's  life  need  much  sleep.     After  the  child  is  six, 
have  a  regular  hour  for  rising  as  well  as  for  retiring;  but  never 
fail  to  send  it  early  to  bed  until  it  is  thirteen  years  old.     A 
child   should   be   covered   warmly,   but   not  too   warmly;    its 
sleeping  place  should  be  well  aired,  and  it  should  never  sleep 
with  its  head  covere'd  up.     Neither  is  it  good  for  a  child  to 
sleep  sunk  in  fathers,  or  in  abed  with  grown  people;  for  the  little 
creatures  sink  down  and  injure  their  blood  by  inhaling  bad  air. 
A  moderately  hard  bed,  which  daily  is  well  aired  and  sunned, 
is  best  for  a  child.     I  prefer  to  any  other  a  straw  bed,  where  the 
straw  is  renewed  at  feast  every  three  months— better  every  two 
I.ittlc  children  should   sleep   much    in  the  day-time;  even  if 


13 


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J 32  TI/£   COMPLETE  HOME. 

they  do  not  seem  sleepy  it  is  better,  morning  and  afternoon,  to 
wash  11    ir  hands  and  faces,  put  on  a  loose  slip,  remove  theit 
shoes,  and  place  them  on  a  bed  :  they  will  soon  get  a  habit  of    ^ 
sleeping  at  these  intervals;  their  constant  activity  when  wakmg 
and  the  necessities  of  growth  demand  much  rest." 

Cousin  Ann  paused,  and  our  party  discussed  the  sleep  ques- 
tion for  some  time.     Then  Mary  Smalley  said : 

"  Cousin  Ann,  what  about  the  other  point-the  child's  food  ?  " 
"  Nature  itself  teaches,"  said  Cousin  Ann,  "  that  if  a  mother  is 
healthful  and  able  to  nurse  her  babe  from  her  own  breast,  she 
should   :o  so.     If  this  is  impossible,  I  would  prefer  feedmg  a 
child  to  the  dangers  of  wet-nursing.     Some  physicians  advocate 
goats'  milk  rather  than  cows' ;  whichever  milk  is  used,  a  mother 
should  prepare  it  and  the  vessels  in  which  it  is  placed  herself, 
using  most   scrupulous   care   as   regards  the   purity  and  the 
soundness  of  the  food,  its  temperature,  quality  and  flavor.     You 
ruin  a  child's  health  by  giving  it  one  while  hot  milk,  again 
cold  milk;  now  unsweetened,  now  loaded  with  sugar;   letting 
the  bottle  or  cup  smell  of  stale  milk,  or  the  milk  offered  be  on 

the  verge  of  acidity. 

"  I  have  seen  people  give  a  child  of  six  or  eight  months  old 
all  kinds  of  food,  even  to  cucumber-pickle  and  salt  pork.     A 
youn-  child  should  have  milk  alone  for  six  months  at  least. 
Possibly  then  a  little  well-made,  clear  mutton-broth  or  beef-tea 
might  be  given  occasionally.     The  tiext  addition  to  diet  could 
be  ground  rice  made  into  a  thin  gruel,  provided  you  grind  the  rue 
yourself.     V>y  the  time  a  child  is  ten  mdnths  old  it  might  be 
allowed  a  bit  of  broiled  beefsteak  or  a  wing  of  fowl  to  suck  in  it, 
own  fashion.     When  it  is  a  year  old,  boiled  oats,  rice,  a  baked 
potato  smoothly  mashed.a  little  corn-meal  mush  or  gruel.and  ripe 
fruit  may  find  a  place  on  its  bill  of  fare.    Never  give  a  child,  under 
six  years  old.  cake,  preserves,  pies,  tea,  coffee  or  pickles.     Let 
their  food  be  plain,  given  at  regular  intervals,  well  cooked,  using 


-* 


i.  n 


SICKNESS  IN-  THE  HOME. 


133 


(ittle  fat,  and  no  fried  things,  and  the  variety  not  very  great. 
A  child,  who  has  plenty  of  sleep,  plenty  of  good  air,  plenty  of 
play  out  of  doors,  will  always  be  ready  for  a  hearty  meal  of  bread 
or  mush  and  milk,  baked  potatoes,  mutton  or  rice-pudding. 
Don't  fancy  every  time  a  babe  cries  that  it  is  hungry ;  perhaps 
its  discomfort  is  from  surfeit.  Don't  urge  a  child  to  eat,  pam- 
pering its  appetite,  and  pressing  dainties  upon  it;  and  don't 
check  its  appetite  for  plain,  wholesome  food.  Remember  the 
child  eats  to  live  and  to  grow,  and  it  needs  more  food  in  pro- 
portion to  its  size  than  a  man  needs." 

"Should  children  eat  between  meals?"  asked  Mary  Watkins. 

"I  should  never  refuse  a  child  an  apple  or  a  slice  of  plain 
bread  and  butter  bctv/ecn  meals;  for  all  we  know  the  little  one 
may  reajly  be  faint  and  hungry;  neither  should  I  give  a  child  a 
hearty  lunch  just  before  dinner  or  just  after  breakfast.  Children 
get  a  habit  of  eating  at  improper  times.  I  have  seen  children 
screaming  for  toast  or  meat,  just  as  they  got  into  bed,  d\\  hour 
after  supper.  Don't  give  a  child  pie,  cake,  or  bread  piled  with 
sugar,  honey  or  molasses  between  meals.  When  it  asks  for 
bread,  never  refuse  it." 

"Now  for  the  baby's  third  fashion  of  spending  its  time;  for 
instance,  in  staring  around,"  said  Helen. 

"There  is  little  to  say  as  to  that;  never  let  the  child  sit  or  lie* 
with  light  falling  across  its  eyes,  nor  gazing  at  a  strong  light. 
Don't  let  it  have  hangings  or  playthings  too  near  its  eyes;  put 
whatever  it  looks  at  fairly  before  it,  and  let  it  have  plenty  to  look 
at.  Babies  like  bright  things;  make  them  balls  or  cushions  of 
bright-colo:  od  worsteds,  generally  of  red,  never  of  green  orbroum, 
lest  there  be  poison  in  the  dye;  little  cats  and  rabbits  of  cotton 
flannel,  and  rag-dolls  dressed  in  gay  colors,  are  things  to  please 
its  eye,  and  cannot  hurt  it  when  it  knocks  them  about,  or  thrusts 
them  in  its  moulli.  As  the  child  is  older,  give  it  books  made 
of  pictures  pasted  on  leaves  of  muslin,  sewed  in  a  strong  cover. 


>'i| 


'  ?i     11 


;  it  ^ 


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n 


m  \  I 


Let  the  room  where  a  child  spends  its  waking  hours  be  bright 
and  cheerful;  let  pleasant  faces  and  voices  surround  it;  don'l 
jerk  it  or  startle  it;  happiness  is  a  large  element  in  health 
fulness." 

"Tell  me,  Cousin  Ann,"  said  I,  "do  you  carry  out  through 
life  your  rule  of  changing  all  one's  garments  from  day  to 
night?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cousin  Ann ;  "  I  think  many  a  fever,  many  a 
fit  of  jaundice  or  biliousness,  would  be  saved  if  one  \vould 
divest  themselves  at  night  of  all  which  they  wear  during  the 
day.  Many  wear  the  same  flannel  vest  night  and  day;  they 
would  be  far  more  robust  and  cheery  if  the  day  flannel  were 
removed,  well  shaken  and  hung  up  wrong  side  out  during  the 
night,  and  a  night  flannel  were  used,  served  the  same  fashion 
by  day.  I  have  seen  people  allow  children  to  go  to  bed  in  their 
stockings,  because  they  say  the  beds  are  cold :  that  plan  is  ter- 
ribly unhcalthful,  and  promotive  of  sore  throats  and  fevers. 
Every  child's  feet  should  be  well  warmed  and  dried  before  retir- 
ing; a  mother  should  sec  to  that  herself,  and  if  from  lack  of 
circulation  the  feet  do  not  keep  warm  at  night,  then  heat  an  old 
flannel  skirt,  or  a  piece  of  a  blanket,  and  let  the  feet  be  wrapped 
up  in  that.  Many  a  weary  hour  by  sick  beds,  many  tears  over 
coffins  would  be  saved,  if  mothers  looked  more  closely  after 
their  children's  feet,  that  they  might  be  warmed  when  cold,  and 
have  shoes  and  hose  changed  Avhen  wet." 

"  Many  people  would  say  your  idea  about  night  and  day  flan- 
nels demanded  too  many  clothes,  and  made  too  large  washings," 
suggested  Mary  Watkins. 

"  I  should  reply,  that  clothes  were  cheaper  than  doctors'  bills, 
and  washing  less  onerous  work  than  sick-nursing.  Besides,  a 
.set  of  flannels  too  thin  for  further  day-use,  can  be  darned  and 
mended  up  for  night,  and  as  nftrr  n!!  tho  clothing  i-.  '.vorn  but 
twenty-four  hours  out  of  a  day,  I  cannot  see  that  washing  would 
be  materially  increased." 


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"  Do  you  think  people  should  sleep  in  winter  between  sheets 
or  blankets?"  asked  one  of  Cousin  Ann's  auditors. 

"  Between  sheets,  by  all  means :  they  are  likely  to  be  changed 
each  week,  and  blankets,  owing  to  weight  and  color,  are  not 
i'kcly  to  get  washed  so  often.     Pounds  of  insensible  perspira 
tion.  carrying  particles  of  waste  matter,  flow  off  from  the  pores 
of  our  bodies  during  sleep;  this  refuse  matter  fills  the  clothes 
we  wear,  and  our  bedding:  thence  arises  the  need  of  exchan<.e 
between  night  and  day  clothes,  and  of  ample  washing  and  airing 
of  our  bedding.     Some  people  make  their  beds  as  soon  as  they 
rise.     This  is  a  dangerous  plan;  not  tidy,  as  they  fancy,  but 
really  very  dirty.     I  think   one  reason  why  Germans  are  so 
healthy  generally  is.  that  they  huve  such  a  passion  for  airinc. 
their  beds;  they  let  them  lie  airing  half  the  time.     However" 
I  believe  an    hour   each    morning,  when    the    night  and   bed- 
clothes are  spread  well  out  to  air  and  sunlight,  and  perhaps  two 
hours   on    sweeping   day.  will    keep   the    beds    in   veiy  good 
order."  J-    b     '^ 

Cousin  Ann  began  to  bustle  about,  as  if  she  thought  that  she 
had  talked  quite  enough.  But  Miriam  cried  out :  "One  word, 
Cousin  Ann,  on  exercise  and  play." 

"  Take  a  lesson  from  the  young  of  the  brute  creation-  from 
the  calves,  colts  and  lambs.  They  thrive  on  air,  sunshin.  and 
free  gambols.  Let  your  children  go  out  every  day.  unless  per- 
haps m  heavy  rain.  You  can  soon  inure  them  to  cold  or  damp 
weather,  if  they  are  well  protected  and  do  not  sit  down  in  the 
wet  or  draughts.  Don't  fear  sun  and  wind  for  them :  let  them 
race  and  climb  and  jump,  and  dress  them  in  strong,  easy-fitting 
clothes,  so  that  they  may  be  untrammelled  in  the  development 
of  their  muscles.  Don't  force  a  child  to  any  study  before  it  i, 
seven  years  old ;  before  that  time  you  can  make  a  play  of  learning 

to  read,  to  roun^  nprl  f-^  ^, t_  i    •   i  ..    ,        _ 

---!!..,  „n-i  .(.  .„,,,,,  anu  Cipher  a  iulic.     In  the  readin<» 

you  provide  a  pleasant  occupation  for  daj^s  of  storm  or  ill  health. 


f'J 


!"'i; 


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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


Most  bright  children,  with  a  box  of  letter-blocks,  an  alphabet 
card  and  a  picture  primer,  will  pick  up  reading  before  they  are 
more  than  five.     Give  a  child  a  seat  suited  to  its  height,  and 
with  a  back ;  let  its  pillow  be  very  low ;  don't  hurry  it  as  a  babe 
to  sit,  stand  or  walk  before  nature  urges  it  to  do  so :  this  over- 
haste  and  letting  the  boneless  legs  bear  the  child's  weight  give 
weak  backs  and  crooked  limbs.     Each  night  and  morning  as 
you  dress  the  young  child,  firmly  and  gently  rub  and  press  the 
legs  straight,  doing  your  part  to  prevent  that  ugly  curve  which 
distorts  so  many  weak  legs.     If  you  want  your  child  to  be  vig- 
orous in  play  and  exercise,  give  it  an  abundance  of  baths:  bathe 
it  every  day,  using  warm  or  cold  v/ater — never  hot,  never  freez- 
ing, but  warm  or  cold  as  best  agrees  with  your  child's  constitu- 
tion.    Don't  forget  that  in  infancy  and  Childhood  you  are  start- 
ing your  child  on  the  voyage  of  life,  which  is  likely  to  be  long 
and  prosperous,  or  short  and  hapless,  according  as  you  give  it  a 
wise  start— a  sound,  healthful,  physical  training.     When  you 
rear  boys,  don't  be  afraid  to  have  them  real  boys ;  know  that  it  is 
natural  to  them  to  fish,  ride,  skate,  sled,  row,  hunt ;  and  so  let 
them  do  it,  in  honest  company  and  with  wise  limitations.     Don't 
be  afrr.id  that  your  girl  will  be  tomboyish  ;  if  she  will  coast,  and 
ride,  climb,  and  skate,  and  run,  so  much  the  better:  to  exercise 
vigorously  is  neither  rude  nor  immodest;  we  get  hardy,  health- 
ful girls  in  the  same  fashion  as  hardy,  healthy  boys,  and  I  had 
much  rather  see  little  miss  at  fourteen  jumping  a  fence,  climb- 
ing a  tree,  scaling  the  roof  and  riding  barebacked,  while  her 
cheek  knows  how  to  blush  at  too  fixed  a  gaze,  and  eyes  and 
ears  are  not  greedily  hunting  for  compliments,  than  to  see  her 
simpering  and   small-talking,  playing   the  immature   flirt  with 
every  jacket  which  comes  in  sight,  her  whole  soul  fixed  on  the 
pet  of  her  dress  and  the  doing  of  her  hair." 

Cousin  Ann  had  quitr-  excited  herself  on  her  favorite  theme: 
she  paused,  smiled,  wiped  her  face,  laid  by  her  spectacles  and 


iliMI 


SICICNESS  m  THE  HOME.  jg- 

her  knitting,  and  stepped  into  the  kitchen  to  give  a  careful  eye 
to  the  supper.   Altogether  we  had  all  had  a  most  instructive  visit 
To  my  surprise  and  I  must  say  my  gratification  I  found  that' 
my  young  friends  did  not  yet  think  themselves  perfectly  accom 
phshed  m  regard  to  conserving  and  procring  family  health,  and 
that  they  desired  yet  further  information.     I  received  an  invita« 
t.on  to  early  tea  at  Mary's,  and  repairing  thither.  I  found  all  the 
young  circle  there.     Indeed,  the  company  was  a  partnership 
affair;  M.nam  and  Helen  had  both  contributed  to  the  tea  and 
lent  the.r  help  in  preparing;   Helen  had  brought  Hannah  to 
nurse  several  of  the  babies  out  in  the  garden,  in  order  to  leave 
the  mothers  uninterrupted,  and  Miriam  had  brought  little  Ann 
whom  she  h.d  taken  from  me,  to  wait  on  the  table.     No  sooner 
was  I  seated  in  the  centre  of  the  group,  than  Miriam,  as  speaker 
for  the  rest,  said : 

"Aunt  Sophronia.  we  have  been  instructed  how  to  keep  our 
houses  healthful;  we  have  had  much  advice  as  to  how  to  keep 
our  children  healthful,  and  to  build  up  sound  bodies  for  sound 
minds  to  inhabit.  But  even  in  healthful  houses  disease  makes 
.ts  appearance,  and  even  the  most  vigorous  children  sometimes 
:all  111.  Now,  Aunt  Sophronia,  we  shall  be  poorly  off  if  we 
do  not  know  how  to  meet  disease-how  to  nurse  our  sick 
Instruct  us." 

"  My  dear  Minam."  I  said,  "it  seems  to  me  that  to  most  sen. 
..ble  women  sick-nursing  comes  by  instinct.     It  .s  an  instinct 
which  fahs  to  the  share  of  some  men.  and  of  most  women  " 
instinct  is  veiy  good,"  said  Miriam,  "but  reason  is  better- 
I  have  seen  some  women  perfectly  lost  and  helpless  in  a 
s:ck-room,"  remarked  Mary.  % 

'•I'm  afra,d  I'd  be  very  much  in  that  case!"  cried  H^len 
And  you  know."  added  some  one  else,  "that  even  if  we  arc 
.0  unusually  fortunate  as  to  have  little  or  no  s.ckness  ,n  our 

fiiendrr' ",?"''  ""'  "^^'^^  °''^^"^'"^^  °-  -^  to  our 
luends  and  neighbors." 


m 


\\  t* 


...  i.  J 
'MM 


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THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


W  .  :i 


"  Indeed,"  I  said,  "  a  woman  who  cannot  wisely  do  duty  in  a 
sick-room  is  like  a  woman  who  has  lost  her  right  hand." 

"  Begin  then,  Aunt  Sophronia,"  said  Miriam,  "at  the  begin- 
ning. Let  us  see  to  the  sick-room  first,  then  to  the  nurse,  then 
to  the  patient,  then  to  the  medicine  and  food." 

"  When  you  may  choose  a  sick-room,"  I  said,  "  get  one  as 
large  as  possible:  crowding,  closeness  and  rustling  against 
things  distract  a  patient.  Take  this  room,  as  commodious  a 
one  as  you  can  find,  and  have  it  thoroughly  cleaned :  white- 
washed walls  are  better  for  it  than  paper-hangings,  and  a  mat- 
ting, with  rugs,  than  a  carpet.  You  must  place  the  bed  so  that 
the  room  can  be  completely  ventilated  without  a  draught  pass- 
ing over  the  bed.  A  fire-place  is  a  rare  treat  in  a  sick-room, 
ventilating  it,  removing  dampness,  and  making  good  cheer  ;  even 
in  a  summer  sick-room  a  little  wood-fire  in  a  fire-place,  morning 
and  evening,  would  be  useful.  Dr.  Guthrie  gives  good  advice : 
he  says  that  he  exposed  himself  freely  to  infectious  and  conta- 
gious diseases  in  his  ministerial  duties,  and  never  contracted 
any  illness  because  he  was  careful  to  insist  '  on  the  door  being 
left  open  while  he  was  in  the  room,  and  always  took  a  position 
between  the  open  door  and  the  patient,  and  not  between  the 
patient  and  the  fire-place.'  A  nurse  cannot  keep  the  door 
open,  but  can  and  should  keep  the  room  well  aired,  protecting 
her  patient  from  a  current  of  air;  and  the  nurse  should  be  care- 
ful and  not  stand  between  her  patient  and  the  fire  " 

"What  furniture  is  best  for  a  sick-room  C "  asked  Mary. 

"  Do  not  have  it  crowded ;  have  nothing  that  will  rattle  and 
rustle ;  have  the  curtains  of  some  kind  of  cloth,  not  shades ; 
have  as  easy  a  chair  as  you  can  for  the  patient's  sitting  up,  and 
with  this  chair  a  blanket  or  quilt,  which  does  not  belong  to 
the  bed-furniture,  to  wrap  over  the  feet  and  knees  of  the  invalid 
while  resting  in  the  chair.  Have  also  a  footstool  or  heavy  foot- 
cushion:  this  can  be  easily  manufactured  from  a  box  padded 


SICA'NESS  IN   rt/E  NOME. 


139 


and  covered  with  carpet;  or  two  circles  of  wool  patchwork  maj 
be  made,  united  with  a  strip  of  cloth  six  inches  wide,  and  filled 
with  hay  or  chaff:     Do  not  let  your  sick-room  be  dull :  put  a 
picture  or  two,  and  a  fancy  bracket  or  something  pretty,  on  the 
walls ;  have  within  sight  of  the  bed  a  stand  neatly  covered,  and 
furnished  with  a  book  or  two,  an  ornament,  a  vase  of  flowers,  or, 
in  winter  even,  of  evergreens,  hollies,  or  dried  grasses,  some- 
thing graceful  and  restful  to  the  eye.     I  believe  in  flowers  in  a 
sick-room,  if  there  are  not  so  many  of  them  as  to  load  the  air 
with  their  smell,  and  if  at  night  they  are  set  outside  of  the  window. 
Let  the  bed-clothing  be  warm  enough,  perfectly  clean,  and  not 
too  heavy:  blankets  are  t^etter  than  cotton  quilts.      See  that  the 
washstand  is  provided  with  water,  towels  and  all  things  needful, 
so  that  there  shall  be  no  annoyance  of  searching  for  thin^-s, 
flurrying  about,  and  asking  'how,'  'where,'  'what!'     Have  a 
closet-shelf  for  medicines  and  ail  disagreeables  of  that  kind.     If 
there  is  no  closet  in  the  room,  or  in  any  part  of  the  furniture, 
have  a  box,  neatly  covered,  nailed  against  the  wall,  out  of  the 
patient's  sight,  shade  it  with  a  little  white  curtain,  and  use  it  as 
a  closet  for  bottles  and  spoons.     Of  all  things  keep  the  sick- 
room neat,  quiet  and  cheerful.     Even  patients  who,  when  well, 
are  careless  and  noisy,  when  ill  are  sensitive  to  the  disturbance 
of  disorder,  and  are  soothed  by  neatness  and  calm." 

"I  think,"  said  Mary,  shutting  her  eyes,  "  that  I  can  now  see 
exactly  how  a  comfortable  side-room  should  look.  Now  for 
the  nurse." 

"One  who  is  taking  care  of  the  sick,"  I  continued,  "should 
cultivate  self-possession,  calmness,  quiet  cheerfulness,  patience, 
a  gentle,  soft  voice,  a  tender  hand,  and  the  faculty  which  many 
characterize  as  being  'handy'— that  is,  taking  the  right  thing  at 
the  right  time— never  dropping  or  knocking  over  things ;  also 
a  good  memory."    . 

"Who  can  have  so  many  virtues!"  cried  Helen, 


m 


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THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


'I* 


"  Love  will  unconsciously  instil  them  all ;  love,  a  habit  of 
striving  to  do  well,  and  a  thoughtful  watchfulness  over  self     A 
nurse  should  be  neat  in  person,  clean  and  plain  in  dress ;  she 
should  never  wear  a  dirty  gown,  nor  a  gown  which  rustles,  nor 
a  glaring  color,  while  the  more  attractive  she  can  make  her 
appearance,  in  the  way  of  simple  good  taste,  the  better  will  she 
suit  the  sick-room.    She  should  not  be  grim  and  taciturn,  neither 
a  gossip  and  a  chatterbox ;  she  should  not  admit  too  many  visi- 
tors ;  her  authority  should  be  unassuming,  and  assured.    Those 
who  nurse  sick  children  should  cultivate  the  pow(     of  telling 
pleasantly  unexciting  stories,  and  should  sing  softly  to  the  little 
invalids  v/hen  they  desire  it.   The  nurse  should  study  the  duty  of 
'  put  yourself  in  his  place ; '  that  is,  she  should  be  sympathetic,  and 
readily  excuse  fretfulness,  crossness,  fears,  and  other  sick  non- 
sense, because  these  are  a  part  of  sickness,  and  something  which, 
when  ill,  she  might  fall  into  herself     A  good  nurse  must  know 
how"to  air  a  room  without  chilling  her  patient;  she  must  be 
skilful  to  make  a  bed  with  the  invalid  in  it,  if  that  invalid  cannot 
be  moved ;  ingcriious  in  airing  bed-clothes  thoroughly  in  a  short 
time,  and  without  exposing  them  to  dampness ;  thoughtful  to 
screen  her  sleeping  patient's  eyes  from  light :  to  shelter  him  also 
from  light  while  sunning  the   room ;  quick-handed  in  bathing 
and  combing,  and  changing  a  patient's  clothes;  very  careful  to 
avoid  using  damp  bedding,  ill-aired  towels,  or  getting  garments 
of  the  sick  one  wet  while  the  toilette   is  proceeding.     A  nurse 
should  avoid  fretting,  bringing  bad  or  exciting  news  into  a  sick- 
room, heavy  prognostications,  or  complaining  of  the  physician 
in  charge,  and  striving  to  shake  the  patient's  faith  in  him.     A 
nurse  should  know  how  to  sweep  a  sick-room  without  raising  a 
dust,  and  to  dress  a  fire  without  making  a  noise.     A  matting  in 
a  sick-room  can  be  well,  quietly  and  easily  cleaned,  by  using  a 
broom  with  a  damp  cloth  pinned  over  it ;  coal  can  be  noiselessly 
put  on  a  fire  by  having  each  handful  or  so  of  coals  tied  up 


S/CA'XESS  LV  THE   HOME. 


141 


in  paper,  or  put  into  little  paper-bags;  this  is  a  very  valuable 
precaution  where  an  invalid  is  very  low,  or  exceedingly  sensitive 
to  noise." 

"And  how  shall  our  nurse  treat  the  patient?"  asked  Helen. 
"She  must  be  kind,  forbearing,  firm:  not  leaving  the  patient* 
the  trouble  of  doing  their  own  thinking,  or  feeling  the  respon- 
sibility  of  taking  care  of  themselves.     The  first  thing  in  the 
morning  the  patient  has  a  right  ;>  be  i.iade  comfortable ;  the  bed 
must  be  put  in  order;  what  ba.hing  is  a' lowed  should  be  done; 
the  hair  smoothed;  the  room  i  Irci      It  d.  pends  on  the  patient 
whether  this  is  done  before  givin,:  ihr,  luorning  meal,  or  a  little 
food  is  given  first,  then  the  putting  in  order  done,  and  then  the 
morning  meal.     A  patient's  whims  should  be  studied  and  grati- 
fied where  they  are  not   harmful;   harmful  whims  should  be 
pleasantly  put  aside.     To  some  patients  one  must  administer  a 
little  firm  reasoning.     Medicine  should  be  given  neatly  and  in 
as  palatable  a  way  as  possible,  and  the  patient  should  not  be 
irritated  by  seeing  it  standing  about.     All  disagreeables  should, 
as  far  as  possible,  be  kept  out  of  sight." 

"And  what  about  this  medicine-taking,  and  running  after  a 
doctor  all  the  time?"  asked  Miriam. 

"  Generally  speaking,  there  is  too  much  of  it.  Rules  of  health 
are  neglected,  and  then  a  heavy  dose  of  medicine  is  expected 
to  set  disorganized  nature  right.  The  mother  disregards  a  little 
hoarseness,  a  complaint  of  sore  throat,  a  slight  chill,  a  degree 
of  feverishness,  and  a  restless  night:  the  warnings  which  nature 
gives  of  coming  ill.  No  change  is  made  in  food,  no  simple 
alterative  is  given,  no  foot-bath,  no  external  application  of 
simples;  the  disease  grows  worse,  then  heavy  doses  are  given: 
the  doctor  is  called  to  rectify  somebody's  blunders,  and  there  is 
a  long  case  of  sickness.  A  mother's  eye  should  be  quick  to 
note  the  varying  health-tokens  in  her  family,  while  she  should 
be  careful  not  to  be  nervous,  not  to  fall  into  a  fright  at  a  child's 


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r//E    COMPLETE  HOME. 


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sncczinf;,  or  sudden  pain,  or  slight  fcvcrishncss.     Some  doctors 
arc  called  day  and  night   to  sec  families  where  there  is  nothing 
the  matter  but  a  child's  having  too  late  or  too  solid  a  supper,  or 
having  been  allowed  too  hard  a  frolic.     Every  woman  of  good 
judgment  and  of  any  degree  of  observation,  with  a  good  physi- 
cian to  fall  back  upon,  one  whose  style  of  practice  she  has  care- 
fully noted,  should  be  able  to  treat  the  simple  ailments  of  her 
family  without  fuss,  excitement  or  doctor's  help.     She  should 
know  how  to  use  properly  a  few  simple  remedies;  she  should 
understand   the  value   of  outward   applications,  of  foot-baths, 
poultices  ;  the  virtues  of  mustard  ;  the  efficacy  of  external  appli- 
cations for  sore  throat;    the  use  of  baths,  local  or  general;  the 
preparation  of  simple  gargles,  and  she  should  be  able,  unalarmed, 
to  bring  to  bear  on  a  case  of  illness  her  common-sense,  and  the 
result  of  her  past  experience  and  observation.     There  are  many 
women  who  have  seen  so  much  of  sickness,  have  read  so  care- 
fully standard  works  on  nursing  and  medicine,  and  have  observed 
so  closely  th.o  sj'mptoms  and  developments  of  ordinary  disease, 
that  they  very  seldom  need  in  their  families  any  skill  except 
their  own.     And  these  very  skilful  persons  are,  I  have  observed, 
those  who  give  the  least  medicine,  and  attend  most  closely  to 
the  laws  of  health,  and  the  work  of  prevention.     I  remember 
years  ago  I  had  called  at   ]\Irs.  Burr's  one  evening  when  she 
was  absent.     As   I  sat  talking  with  Mr.  Burr,  their  youngest 
child  woke  with  an  acute  attack  of  croup.     'John,'  cried  Mr. 
Burr  to  the  servant,  'run  for  Mrs.  Burr  and  the  doctor:  but  get 
Mrs.  Burr  first' 
"I  ventured  to  say:  '  Had  you  not  better  call  the  doctor  first? ' 
'"No,"  .said  he, '  I  shall  feel  twice  as  safe  with  Mrs.  Burr  in  the 
home.     She    ends  for  the  doctor  now  and  then,  but  I  pin  my 
faith  to  her,  and  she's  never  failed  me.' 

.  "  Sure  cnotKjh.  Mrs.  Burr  had  the  child  relieved  and  quite  out 
of  danger  bctcrc  the  doctor  got  in.  lie  looked  over  at  her,  with 
a  laugh : 


S/CA'JVESS  IN  THE  HOME. 


143 


•"O,  Mrs.  Burr!  are  you  home?     Why,  then,  I  might  as  well 
have  finished  the  nap  I  was  taking.' 

"Once  in  the  winter  I  spent  with  Cousin  Ann,  little  Dick  came 
home  from  school  one  stormy  afternoon,  looking  very  ill;  he 
wheezed,  his   face  was   swollen,  he   shook  as  with  ague, 'yet 
burned  with  fever;  he  had  such  a  pain  in  his  chest  that  he  was 
crying,  and  was  so  hoarse  that  he  could  hardly  .speak :  '     this 
state  he  had  v/alked  a  mile  in  the  storm,  his  feet  were  soaking 
wet,  and  his  brother  Reed  said  that  Dick  had  been  sick  all  day^ 
Really  he  looked  desperately  ill.     Cousin  Ann  bid  Reed  remove 
tiio  child's  boo^s  and  outer  clothing.     She  set  a  tub  in  front  of 
the  kitchen  fire,  put  therein  a  tablespoonful  of  soda,  and  a  liberal 
supply  of  watrr  as  hot  as  Dick  could  stand.     She  stripped  the 
little  creature,  and  gave  him  a  thorough  hot  bath,  put  on  his 
woollen  night-gown,  wrapped  him  in  a  blanket,  and  laid  him  on 
the  lounge,  which  I  wlieeled  near  the  fire.     She  put  a  hot  water 
bottle  at  his  feet,  laid  a  plaster  of  flour  and  mustard  on  his 
breast,  and  one  of  the  same  about  his  neck,  gave  him  a  mild 
dose  of  physic,  gently  combed  his  hair,  and  laid  a  cloth  wet  in 
vinegar  on  his  aching  head.     In  twenty  minutes  from  his  miser- 
able and  suffering  entrance  to  his  home,  Dick,  feeling  perfectly 
safe  now  that  he  was  in  his  mother's  hands,  was  lying  warmly 
wrapped   and   comfortably   pillowed,   his  whole   aching   frame 
feeling  the  relief  of  his  hot  soda  bath.     Cousin  Ann  then  quietly 
cleared  away  the  soiled  clothes,  the  tub  and  towels,  sat  down  by 
Dick,  sewing  in   hand,  and  began  to  sing  liim  a  little  song. 
Leforc  long,  his  breathing  grew  easier,  and  he  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep.     Cousin  Ann  and  I  then  lifted  the  lounge  into  tlic  next 
room  where  it  was  warm,  and  he  would  not  be  aroused  by  the 
supper-getting.     Returning  then  to  the  kitchen,  she  took  Reed's 
case  in  hand :  up  to  this  tinie  .she  had  made  no  remark  to  him. 

1,  -Y.i^.i  J.U.!,  ,,a,<-  br^'iiKT  jccnied  ih,  why  uia  you  not 

at  once  bring  him  home  ?     If  he  seemed  too  sick  to  walk  tlie 


ll; 


%    ijillfr 


144 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


II     f 


A 


mile,  why  not  have  borrowed  a  conveyance  at  one  of  the  neigh' 
bors'?  Do  you  not  see  how  cruel  and  dangerous  it  was  to  let 
him  grow  worse,  and  suffer  there  all  day,  and  then  walk  home  in 
this  storm  ?     It  might  have  sacrificed  his  life  ! ' 

" '  Well,'  said  Reed,  '  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  so  very  sick, 
and  I  did  not  want  to  miss  my  lessons.' 

'"It  is  wise  to  be  on  the  safe  side,'  said  his  mother;  'an 
ounce  of  prevention  is  wortii  a  pound  of  cure ;  and  our  pleasures 
and  preferences  should  always  give  way  to  another's  pain. 
Always  remember :  never  trifle  ivitJi  disease! 

"  In  less  than  a  week  Dick  was  as  well  as  ever ;  but  some  peo- 
ple in  a  fright  would  have  put  him  to  bed,  and  have  allowed  him 
to  get  worse  for  two  hours,  while  they  were  sending  into  town 
for  a  doctor,  instead  of  using  the  simple,  common-sense  remedies 
at  hand." 

By  this  time  in  our  talk  we  had  reached  the  tea  hour.  After 
tea  wc  had  a  little  discussion  about  the  food  for  sick  people. 
The  substance  of  our  conclusions  was  as  follows :  An  invalid's 
food  should  be  prepared  and  pi-esented  with  the  utmost  neatness. 
A  sick  person  is  more  fastidious  tlian  a  well  person ;  he  eats 
with  his  eyes  as  much  as  with  his  mouth  ;  he  will  take  his  gruel 
out  of  a  china  bowl,  when  he  would  reject  it  slovenly  presented 
in  a  tin-cup.  Do  not  present  a  patient  too  much  food  at  once; 
a  large  quantity  will  disgust,  where  a  small  amount  will  tempt 
a  sickly  taste.  Let  the  food  be  presented  attractively,  sprc-id  a 
clean  napkin  on  tlie  tray,  and  use  as  nice  and  as  small  dishes  as 
you  can,  and  add,  if  possible,  a  spray  of  flowers ;  the  capricious 
invalid,  needing  food,  yet  indifferent  to  it,  will  eat  what  is  fhu:i 
brought,  "  because  it  looks  so  pretty."  If  the  case  is  in  charge 
of  a  physician,  carefully  follow  his  orders  in  regard  to  food ;  if 
you  are  both  nurse  and  doctor,  u.se  your  common-sense,  and 
give  food  light  and  easy  of  digestion,  palatable  and  varied  in 
quantity  and  quality  as  convalescence  progresses,    Every  woman 


1.1 


S/CA-.VESS  IX   THE  HCME. 


145 


should  know  how  to  prepare  gruel,  beef-tea,  mutton-broth  toast, 
toast-water,  panada,  chickcn-.soup,  a  bit  of  broiled  fowl  or  steak 
and  the  various  other  dainties  and  necessities  of  the  sick-room' 
When  you  poach  an  egg  for  your  invalid  do  it  nicely;  do  not 
make  it  hard  as  a  bullet,  with  edges  ragged  and  streaming,  hut 
turn  the  white   skilfully  over  the  yolk    until    it  is  a  smooth 
oblong.  lightly  cooked ;    lift    it   carefully  with   your  skimmer 
unfl  It  IS  well  drained;  sprinkle  on  the  centre  a  little  salt  and 
pepper;  lay  it  on  four  or  five  green  leaves,  parsley,  if  you  have 
them-if  not,  on  two  or  three  celery  or  carrot  leaves ;  have  ready 
a  diamond-shaped  piece  of  toast,  of  an  even  brown,  and  carry 
up  both  hot^n  a  white-covered  tray:  if  you  have  a  spray  of 
honey-suckle,  a  rose  or  a  c'uster  of  violets  to  lay  between  your 
tvv'o  dishes,  so  much  the  better. 

When  you  bake  an  apple  for  an  invalid,  don't  have  it  burnt 
on  cne  s>de  and  burst  open  on  the  other;  prick  the  skin  and 
bake  .t  thoroughly  and  evenly.    Don't  send  your  patient  back  tho 
same  bit  of  butter  with,  perhaps,  a  knife-mark  on  it,  or  the  same 
spoonful  of  jelly  in  a  smeared  dish :  a  {^^^r  dishes  more  or  les, 
to  wash  are  nothing  compared  to  the  invalid's  comfort.     When 
you  hear  of  a  nice  nee.  sago  or  tapioca  pudding  for  an  invalid 
write  the  recipe  in  some  little  note-book  dedicated  to  cookery  foi 
the  sick,  and  then  using  such  a  book  you  will  be  able  to  keep  up  a 
variety  in  cooking  for  your  patient,  and  sick  people  need  variety 
more  than  well  people.     Don't  keep  an  invalid  waiting  long  fo, 
a    meal,  until    they  are   tired,   cross,   and    past   thcT  appetite 
Don't  bring  up  the  tea  or  coffee  and  forge't  the  sugar,  or  furnish 
the  pudding  and  then  go   to   hunt  a  spoon,  and  so  have  the 
dish  lukewarm  when  eaten.     Consult  your  patient'.,  taste.s,  anc{ 
don't  forget  to  .season  nicely  when  you  cook.      He  .so  neat  that 
the  wary  patient  will  have  no  suspicions  of  your  cookery. 

"Once  when  I  was  ill."  said  Helen,  "nothing  would  tempt  me 
to  cat.    The  doctor  was  quite  worried  about  it;  but  cat  I  could 


=fr'    K'. 


146 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


;/!' 


r-  I 


not,  no  matter  what  was  presented.  One  afternoon  Haniiah 
brought  up  'a  present  from  Mrs.  Winton."  The  present  was  in 
a  napkin  of  rose-colored  damask ;  I  unpinned  the  corners,  and 
there  was  a  little  fancy  basket,  and  in  the  basket  a  French  china 
bowl,  with  something  in  it  snow-white  with  little  flecks  of 
green,  and  in  the  middle  of  this  'something'  a  tiny  bouquet 
stood  up,  madf»  of  a  pale  blue  hyacinth  and  a  tea-rose ;  across 
the  bowl  lay  a  silver  fork,  so  all  was  ready  for  me  to  taste  the 
'something.'  The  lovely  pink  damask,  the  dainty  basket,  the 
fragrant  flowers,  beguiled  me  to  taste  what  was  in  the  bowl :  it  was 
a  delicious  salad.  After  one  taste  I  told  Hannah  to  bring  me  a 
slice  of  bread,  and  I  made  my  supper  at  once  of  the  bread  and 
salad ;  my  appetite  was  restored  from  that  time." 

"We  must  have  the  recipe  for  that  famous  salad,"  cried 
Miriam  "  and  put  it  in  our  Sick  Cookery  Books." 

"It  is  as  good  for  well  folks  as  for  the  sick,"  said  Helen; 
"and  you  may  copy  the  recipe  for  that  and  two  other  salads  out 
of  my  Household  Book  whenever  you  choose." 

The  young  people  all  agreed  that  they  had  lea  -^ed  a  good 
deal  about  sick-nursing,  and  had  had  a  very  pleasan    /.sit. 

As  I  found  that  the  recipes,  to  which  Helen  ref  rred,  would 
susijiest  a  fine  addition  to  a  tea-table,  or  to  a  convalescent's  bill 
of  fare,  I  shall  add  them  to  this  discussion  of  nursing. 

Salad  Dressing. — Boil  an  egg  very  hard.  Mash  the  yolk  and 
chop  fine  the  white.  Put  in  a  bowl  the  mashed  yolk,  one  teaspoon 
white  sugar,  one-half  teaspoon  salt,  one  teaspoon  mustard,  one 
tablespoon  olive  oil,  two  or  three  tablespoons  vinegar,  according 
to  size  of  salad;  mi.x  well.  Stir  this  dressing  well  through  the 
salad ;  pile  the  .salad  in  a  mound  on  a  platter ,  put  the  chopped 
egg-white  over  the  top;  set  a  wreath  of  celery  leaves  around 
the  edge  of  the  dish  ;  make  a  small  bouquet  of  any  flowers  or 
green  things  for  the  centre.  For  a  tea-party  in  sprm  a  -•vy 
violet  Wrcatli  for  the  edge  and  a  violet  cluster  in  thr    t...treii 


tali 


S/C/CA^ESS  IN  THE  HOME.  j^^ 

an  improvement ;   in  the  fall,  little  plum  tomatoes  cut  in  halves 
anJa,d  on  the  leaves  at  the  edge  is  a  fine  addition  to  the  dish. 

The  Salad.--V..\   or  scrape  six  large  Irish  potatoes.     Soak 

■  n  sa  t  water  ror  an  hour  or  so ;  boil  until  barely  done ;  let  them 

Rc    cold.     Chop  these  potatoes    fine;    chop   several  stems  of 

celery;  a  l.ttle  parsley;  a  circle  of  onion  and  a  circle  of  pepoer- 

pod  n,ay  be  added  if  desired ;  with  or  without  the  celery,  bLd.ed 

urn.p-tops  chopped  fine;  mix  the  potatoes  and  chopped  salad. 

so  half  a  small  head  of  fine-chopped   lettuce;  stir  well  into 

th.s  the  above  dressing,  and  serve  as  directed.     The  chopped 

potatoes  alone  thus  dressed  make  a  good  salad,  when  other 

matenaLs  are  not  procurable;  or  use  one-half  chopped  potatoes 

and  onehalfchopped  roast  beef. 

.^f  ^"^'f /f  ^-Chop  beef  or  mutton  very  fine.  Mix  with 
above  salad  dressing.  Cut  and  butter  thin  rounds  of  bread- 
spread  evenly  on  these  the  dressed  meat;  lay  on  each  a  thin' 
round  of  lemon,  and  a  leaf  of  parsley  under  the  edge  of  the  slice 
of  lemon.  Put  these  meat  slices  on  a  platter,  and  lay  a  small 
bouquet  m  the  centre-a  delightful  and  beautiful  tea-dish 

In  cooking  for  the  sick  take  particular  care  not  to  scorch  or 
smoke  the  food  ;  avoid  all  greasiness.  and  never  /.;,  an  invalid's 
ood  Meat  for  a  sick  person  should  be  broiled  or  steamed 
Ue  hear  many  complaints  of  tough  meat,  but  there  is  scarcely 
an>'  beef-roast  so  obdurate  as  not  to  prove  tender,  and  well 
flavored,  if  roasted  as  follows  : 

Take  a  stone  pot.  a  round  pot  of  the  .same  size  in  its  whole 
K.ght.  and  without  a  neck,  the  top  being  entirely  open:  it  must 
^-^  low  enough  to  stand  in  the  oven.  Rinse  the  n.eat.  remove 
■u^y  very  large  bones,  and  gash  a  little  with  a  sharp  knife:  put 
tl.e  meat  nUo  the  pot-if  closely  crow.led.  it  is  all  the  b.Mcr- 
■Tnnkle  ,t  well  with  salt,  pepper,  and  a  little  ground  cloves' 
l)our  over  i«- ^  —- "<•  -  -       -  »"vv.3, 


cup  of  catsup,  tomato  c.-.tsi,p  being  the  best- 


;  J.  i 


on  a  close  lid;  if  the  pot  has  no  lid.  lay  a  pic-pl 


itc 


put 


upon  it 


148 


THE   COMrLETE  HOME. 


and  put  a  brick  on  the  plate  to  hold  it  down  firmly.  Allow  no 
water  in  the  pot,  and  no  e.cape  of  steam  while  the  roaiting  pro- 
urcsses.  Mavc  an  oven  as  for  bread,  and  roast  four  or  fivr 
hours,  according  to  the  si;'.o  of  the  piece  of  meat.  Meut  thus 
cooked  will  be  exceedingly  tender  and  juicy:  none  of  its  flavor 
will  have  escaped,  and  it  is  cqtndly  good  usod  hot  or  cold,  while 
for  making  sandwiches  it  is  unrivalled.  That  it  may  be  of  a 
handsome  shape  when  served,  it  is  well,  bcTore  nutting  it  -'n  the 
pot  to  roast,  to  coil  it  into  a  round,  and  tie  it  with  a  piece  ot 
tape. 

I  wrote  li  ose  recipes  in  !v?iriam's  Household  Book;  as  I  was 
returning  it  to  its  slic'f,  a  bit  of  paper  fell  out.  It  was  written 
by  her  tioctor.  ,->n']  Miriam  said  she  had  forgotten  to  copy  it, 
and  musi;  do  so  at  once.  As  she  was  nursing  one  of  her  chil- 
dren, 1  copied  it  for  her.  The  paper  was  upon  that  .;reat  trial 
of  many:  Sleeplessness.  Thus:  If  you  are  troubled  by  Sleepless- 
ness, do  not  set  yourself  to  counting,  composing,  or  ret 'ting;  as 
a  general  thing,  this  will  excite  the  brain  to  an  activity  which 
will  defy  sleep;  to  attain  sleep,  the  mind  should  be  restful.  The 
cause  of  Sleeplessness  is  usually  an  excited  state  of  the  nerves ; 
a  -simple  method  of  calming  these  is  to  bathe  the  head,  neck 
and  arms  in  cold  water,  and  rub  briskly  with  a  towel,  imme- 
diately before  retiring  ;  this  secures  action  to  the  skin,  and  aids 
materially  in  producing  a  calm,  sleepy  feeling.  Nervous  excite- 
ment, producing  wakefulness,  is  often  a  product  of  indigestion; 
a  remedy  for  this  is:  wring  out  a  towel  from  cold  water,  fold  it, 
lay  it  upon  the  stomach,  and  fold  a  dry  towel,  or  a  large  piece  of 
flannel,  over  it,  cross  the  arms  lightly  over  it,  and  soon  a  delight 
ful  warmth  and  glow  will  .send  you  off  to  sleep.  Another  method 
of  persuading  rest  when  wakeful  is:  to  rise,  rub  the  arn.s,  chest 
and  feet  briskly  with  a  coarse  towel  or  a  flesh-brubl  more 

effectual  fashion,  esnecially  on  warm  nights,  would  '  ■    o  bathe 
the  arms  and  soa:   ■  1;?  wrists  in  cold  water.    A  '^  towel,  of 


IJI 


SICA'NESS  IN   THE  HOME. 


149 


a  handkerchief,  may  be  wrung  out  of  cold  water,  and  wrapped 
on  the  left  wrist,  and  covered  with  a  dry  towel :  the  fdst  and 
feverish  pulse  soon  calms,  and  sleep  succeeds. 

These  are  all  simple,  easy  suggestions,  and  I  made  a  note  of 
them  for  my  own  use  ;  although  having  a  well-aired  room,  no 
light,  a  mattress  and  not  feathers  to  sleep  on,  keeping  regular 
hours,  taking  sufficient  exercise,  and  eating  a  light  supper,  I  am 
not  often  troubled  by  wakefulness.  A  habit  of  wakefulness  is 
very  disastrous,  and  we  should  use  every  effort  to  guard  against 
it;  if  we  find  ourselves  wakeful  at  night,  we  should  seek  after 
the  cause,  ^.~xd  strive  to  avoid  repeating  it,  not  only  for  comfort's 
sake,  but  ici  the  sake  of  the  souaaiicss  of  our  minds,  the  vigor 
of  our  bodies,  and  the  efficiency  of  our  work  during  the  day. 
Sleep  is  one  of  the  good  gifts  of  God :" 

"  So  he  giveth  his  beloved  sleep. 
So  he  giveth  his  beloved  in  sleep. 


1,1      i 


'M    I 


MP!::.  IH 


i 


1 

1';      •- 

1 

1   :  '  1 

M 

L^ 

CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  HOME. 
AUKT   SOPHRONIA   TELUS   HOW   TO   MAKE   HOME   ATTRACT,  VE. 

REMEMBER  telling  my  niece  Miriam  before  he^-  mar- 
riage,  that  good  housekeeping  builds  up  the  wrlls  of 
Home.     In  the  building  of  houses  I  have  observed  that 
once  the  walls  are  up,  some  sort  of  finish  is  put  upon 
them :  they  are  painted,  papered,  calcimined  or  white-wpsned. 
Then,  in  furnishing  a  house,  people  generally  place  picmres, 
ornaments  or  brackets  upon  the  walls.     So  I  think  that  if  good 
housekeeping  builds  up  the  walls  of  Home,  good  taste,  a  thing 
closely  allied  to  good  housekeeping,  gives  them  the  finishing 
touch  and  makes  the  Home  beautiful.     In  my  opinion  the  Beauty 
of  the   Home   is   a  very  important   matter.     There  are  a  few 
people  who  pass  it  by  as  "  nonsense,"  say  they  "  have  no  time 
for  it,"  and  that  they  must  "  spend  their  efforts  on  what  has  a 
cash  value  ; "  being  narrow-minded,  or  near-sighted,  they  do  not 
perceive  that  Beauty  in  a  home  has  a  very  decided  cash  value. 
I  say  this,  first,  because  if  we  cultivate  Beauty  in  the  Home,  we 
produce  there  greater  care  and  better  and  more  cheerful  spirits, 
consequently  better  health,  and  therefore  less  outlay  for  sick- 
ness, besides  having  more  effective  working-force.      Again,  a 
Home,  in  village  or  country,  where  Beauty  is  created,  possesses 
ii  higher  market  value.     A  Home  where  an  outlay  of  care,  a 
little^'labor  and  forethought  has  created  beauty  in  the  shape  of 
smooth    hard   walks,  neat   sodding   near   the   house,  a    Howcr 
garden,    sliade    trees,    rows    of    fruit    trees,   grapes,   Howering 
(150) 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  HOME. 


151 


vines,  a  post  or  two  draped  in  roses  and  honeysuckles,  with  a 
bird-house  a-top,  a  little  arbor  or  summer  house— these  things, 
created  in  summer  evenings  after  working  hours,  in  winter 
leisure  time,  in  early  mornings,  noon-rests,  or  on  holidays,  lend 
an  air  of  refinement  to  the  whole  establishment,  directly  and 
indirectly  tend  toward  the  good  order  of  the  whole,  give  it  a 
higher  market  value  and  would  secure  a  purchaser  more  quickly 
if  it  were  for  sale.  In  another  regard  the  culture  of  Beauty  in  a 
Home  is  of  immense  value.  A  growing  family  will  be  much 
more  likely  to  remain  cheerfully  in  a  Beautiful  Home,  even  if 
that  beauty  is  extremely  simple  and  inexpensive.  A  flimily 
who  are  home-keepers  arc  an  inexpensive  family.  Sons  and 
daughters  do  not  waste  their  money  at  home  :  they  are  tempted 
into  rash  outlays  when  they  are  in  the  company  of  strangers, 
hanging  about  public  places  and  striving  to  vie  with  those  who 
have  either  no  need  of  saving,  or  no  honest  desire  to  do  so. 

I  hear  so  much  complaint  that  farmers'  sons  and  daughters 
do  not  want  to  stay  at  home— they  "  hate  the  farm  "—want 
other  business ;  the  girls  had  rather  be  mantua-makers  or  store- 
clerks,  than  be  at  home  helping  their  mothers,  making  butter, 
and  raising  fruits  and  vegetables;  the  sons  want  to  try  their 
fortunes  in  the  city;  the  parents  fmd  themselves,  when  their 
children  are  old  enough  to  be  efficient  help,  left  to  hired  ser- 
vants, who  have  little  care  to  aid  them  in  making  and  saving 
money,  who  arc  no  company  indoors,  and,  meanwhile,  the 
parental  heart  is  burdened  with  fears  and  anxieties  for  the  absent 
children,  and  possibly  the  parental  purse  is  burdened  with  their 
business  failures. 

I  was  at  tea  at  Mrs.  Winton's  the  other  day,  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Burr  and  «:ome  others,  and  Mr.  VVinton  said: 

"We  shall  have  constantly  r^  .urring  'panics'  and  'crashes' 
and  'hard  times'  u,  i  our  poop  .-  learn  that  the  tilling  of  the 
soil  is  the  true   source  of  weakh;  that  golden  corn  above  the 


m\ 


i 


152 


Tur.  coyrLETE  home. 


ground  is  really  of  more  value  to  the  country  than  the  gold  in 
the  earth  ;  tha<^  the  soil  of  our  country  has  abundance  for  all  hei 
children ;    it  i.  a   mother  who  never  for  bread  offers  a  stone. 
When  the  immigrants  who  come  to  us  shall  be  agriculturists; 
when  our  emigrants  and  our  moving  Eastern  copulation  seek  the 
West  for  farms,  and  not  for  gold  .n  saver  claims ;  when  instead  of 
our  rural  population  crowding  to  the  cities  in  a  mad  zeal  for  spec- 
ulation and  hasty  fortunes,  which,  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  an 
hundred,  are  fortunes  as  quickly  lost  as  made;  when  every  acre 
of  land  in  our  farming  districts  is  made  to  produce  to  its  fullest 
Cipacity,  and  not  left  lying  in  marsh,  or  barren,  or  Gcrub  for 
years,  then  we  shall  be  a  solidly  wealthy  people— these  great 
financial  convulsions  and  crises  which  have  kept  us  in  a  state  of 
fever  and  excitement  will  be  unknown." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Mr.  Burr,  "  our  farming  and  arable  lands 
are  capable  of  producing  a  far  greater  amount  than  they  do  at 
present;  diligent  cultivation,  rotation  of  crops,  and  care  not  to 
exhaust  the  land  for  the  sake  of  a  hasty  cash  return,  would  bring 
our  crops  up  to  a  value  thus  far  quite  unknown  :n  this  country. 
Consider  what  a  population  the  small  country  of  Palestine  onco 
supported  :  over  nine  millions  of  people  in  an  extent  of  less  than 
ten  thousand  sr^'are  mile^— that  i  ,  about  the  size  of  the  State 
of  New  Hampsh.;.-.  Egypt  was  me  grain-house  of  the  world, 
besides  supporting  over  twenty  thousand  towns  and  villages,  ten 
very  great  cities,  r.'.  vvuich  one  was  twenty  n.il.s  in  circumfer- 
ence. The  valley  of  the  Euphrates  around  Babylon  formerly 
produced  two  hundred-fold  for  seed  "^ -,vn.  I  believe  if  land  is 
well  tilled  and  cropped  accorri  ng  to  its  nature,  there  is  abso- 
lutely no  limit  to  its  power  ..n  '  iction.  If  the  population. 
which  is  now  swarming  in  r  .  s  and  towns,  fretting  in 
poverty  and  idleness,  nursing  communism  and  breedii  :  disease, 
would  pour  out  as  workers  into  the  country-,  filling  it  so  that 
swamps  must  be  drained,  and  dry  wastes  irrigated,  and  hills  ter 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  HOME. 


1S3 


raced  for  grapes,  and  that  barrens  must  be  cleared  off,  in  behalf 
of  crops  of  corn,  melons  and  sweet-potatoes,  and  the  woods 
must  be  cleared  of  underbrush,  and  set  to  growing  large  timber- 
then  we  should  find  a  reign  of  plenty,  and  all  our  present 
beggars  might  be  on  horseback,  at  least  while  they  were  tilling 
their  fields  and  driving  their  mark-et-wacrons  " 

"  Instead  of  that  rush  to  the  country,"  said  I,  "  the  rush  is 
away  from  it;  the  young  folks  think  they  must  go  to  town  as 
soon  as  they  are  grown.  Every  one  wonders  why  and  how 
Cousin  Ann's  three  boys  have  sf     cd  on  farms." 

"  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  liurr,  "  that  one  reason  of  that  restless 
liaste  to  leave  the  farm  is  owing  to  a  neglect  of  making  the  farm 
and  the  farm-house  attractive.  So  many  of  these  homesteads 
have  a  lonely,  desolate  look.  No  trees,  no  flowers,  a  neglect  of  a 
little  ingenuity  in  making  a  pretty  porch  and  fence  for  the  house- 
front,  an  over-carefulness  which  refuses  to  open  the  front  rooms 
■  r  the  use  of  the  family,  a  neglect  of  making  the  bed-rooms 
nea^  and  pretty— things  get  a  sameness  and  shabbiness,  and 
)    ung  eyes  pine  for  something  more  attractive." 

"  Ther-  that  same  error,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  in  villages  and 
towns  anu  ties,"  said  Mrs.  Winton.  "A  great  many  people 
pile  all  the  agreeable  things  which  they  have  into  one  or  two 
rooms,  which  they  keep  shut  up  for  apocryphal  visitors.  The 
family  sitting-room  and  the  bed-rooms  are  bare  and  forbidding." 
"And  then,"  rqjlied  Mrs.  Burr,  "  the  young  folks  go  ...  visit 
their  neighbors,  or  out  into  the  streets,  and  look  at  the  st<,M-- 
windows,  and  so  try  to  compensate  themselves  ;  whether  they 
know  what  thej-  want  or  not,  all  youth  craves  beauty:  it  is  a 
natural  desire." 

"  But  what  a  pity,"  I  said,  "  that  young  folks  should  nut  find 
what  they  crave  in  the  safety  of  their  own  homes !  What  an 
anchorage  for  good  faith  and  virt.ie  is  the  low  of  an  honest, 
pu:o  home!     What  a  stay  to  „  child  in  all  his  life,  the  memory 


i 

i 

A 

■ 

■'      K 

1 

|pr 


164 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


of  a  home  beautiful,  upright  and  loving !  and  by  beautiful  I  do 
not  mean  the  bcaut\-  which  is  created  by  money,  in  velvet 
carpets,  rosewood  furniture,  fine  ornaments  and  pictures.  Those 
are  all  very  well  when  they  fall  to  our  lot,  but  the  beauty  which 
I  mean  can  be  created  anywhere,  and  out  of  almost  anything, 
by  simple  good  taste.  I  think  that  care  to  make  the  Home 
attractive  is  the  secret  of  the  farming  tastes  of  Cousin  Ann's 
boys.  And  what  a  comfort  those  tastes  have  been  to  their 
parents!  Reed  and  Fred  are  on  farms  beside  their  father's, 
Dick  is  with  his  father,  and  little  Jack  is  not  likely  to  wish  to  go 
away.  What  anxieties  have  they  all  been  spared,  what  tempta- 
tions, what  losses,  by  these  home  tastes!" 

"  I  was  a  little  boy,"  said  Mr.  Burr,  "when  Reuben  and  Cousin 
Ann,  as  young  married  people,  moved  to  that  farm.     I  used  to 
think  it  was  the  barest-looking  place  on  earth.     An  old  broken- 
down  fence,  no  paths,  no  porch,  no  shade,  no  garden ;  there  was 
the  land,  the  barns  and  sheds,  a  straight  wooden  house,  and  some 
field  fences.     They  moved  there  in   the  fall.     Cousin  Reuben, 
as  we  all  call  him  now,  spent  a  good  deal  of  that  winter  in  his 
wood-lot,  cutting  and  hauling  wood,  for  himself  and  for  sale,  and 
on  top  of  his  loads  we  schoolboys  saw  him  bringing  home  all 
manner   of  queer-looking   and  shaped   sticks.     The  old   yard 
fence  was  turned  into  kindling  wood.     I  remember  how  that 
place  changed,  not  by  money  outlay,  for  they  had  a  mortgage  to 
pay  off,  but  by  constant  industry  and  good  sense.    Cousin  Reuben 
and  Ann  worked  away  at  that  front  yard,  and  around  the  house, 
every  summer  evening  for  years.     Those  queer  sticks  grew  in 
two  years  into  a  handsome  rustic  fence.     Reuben  built  with  his 
own  hands  a  porch,  an  arbor  for  grape  vines,  and  a  summer 
house ;  in  the  winter  evenings  he  made  bird-houses,  and  poles 
for  creepers ;  Cousin  Ann  got  slips,  cuttings  and  seeds ;  to  give 
her  a  bit  of  good  shrubbery  was  to  give  her  a  treasure,  and 
Reuben  carried  from  the  field  and  wood  promising  young  shade 
and  ornamental  trees.     Look  what  a  place  liicy  have  now ! " 


THE  BEAUTY  OF   THE  HOME. 


155 


"Yes,   I   remember.     Cousin  Ann   told    me  she  meant   Iicr 
children  should  not  grow  up  in  such  a  desolate  place  as  that 
was  when  she  found  it ;  and  she  thought  they  would  love  and 
value  it  more,  if  they  helped  to  create  beauty  there.     She  had 
them  from  their  earliest  childhood  learn  to  help  keep  the  placj 
neat,  and  make    improvements  in  it.     They  helped  her  in  th^- 
vegetable  garden  ;  they  planted  and  weeded  flower  borders ;  no 
old  barrel-hoops  rotted  on  the  ground  there:  they  were  used  for 
fences  to  the  garden  bed,  and  for  frames  for  vines.   The  boys  nude 
rustic  seats,  they  learned  to  turn  common  things  to  use,  they 
made  brackets  and  picture-frames.     Every  one  helped  to  make 
every  one's  room  pretty,  and  no  part  of  the  house  was  too  good 
for  the  family.     The  parents  took  a  pride  in  making  the  house 
nice,  and  the  children  learned  an  equal  pride  in  keeping  it  nice. 
I  never  saw  such  children  to  avoid  making  a  litter,  and  such 
care  in  preserving  furniture.     They  liked  to  sit  in  the  best  room 
when  there  was  no  company;  they  enjoyed  it  for  themselves;  and, 
boys  and  girls,  they  would  set  to  work  just  before  going  to  bed, 
or  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  sweep,  dust  and  polish  it  up,' 
so  that  the  use  of  it  should  not  increase  their  mother's  work. 
Why  if  those  boys  undertook  to  go  far  from  home,  they  would 
be  going  from  a  place  which  they  had  made,  from  what  was  a 
pleasant  share  and  part  of  their  own  life-work.     They  learned 
carpentry  on  rainy  days,  out  in  the  barn,  making  stools  and 
stands,  shelves  and  shutters  for  their  rooms." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Winton,  "the  whole  county  knows  that  they 
are  a  wonderful  set  of  boys." 

"They  had  a  wonderful  mother,  to  begin  with,"  said  Mrs. 
Burr.  "And  every  mother  may  be  just  as  wonderful,  who  sets 
her  common-sense  and  energy  to  work  for  her  family— who 
trains  her  children's  activity  to  constructiveness  and  usefulness, 
instead  of  to  riot  and  mischief.  What  boy  will  not  prize  the 
home  which  he  helped  make,  which  was  free  to  him  in  all  its 


iTfM 


156 


rJ/£    COMPLETE  HOME. 


m\ 


urn .:  ip 


I'll! 


best  things,  which  gave  him  his  interests  and  occupied  his 
thoughts  ?  What  boy  won't  take  a  pride  in  making  things,  when 
even  his  first  exploit  in  making  a  stool — a  stool  a  little  shaky  in 
the  legs,  and  a  little  uneven  in  height — is  cordially  received 
with — '  That  is  very  nice.  I  have  some  cloth  which  will  make  it 
a  splendid  cover;  I  think  I  would  cut  that  leg  about  half  an 
inch  shorter,  auJ  you  had  better  put  a  nail  in  here,  and  one  here. 
Then  this  evening  we  will  cover  it  in  red  and  black,  and  you 
can  have  it  in  your  own  room.' " 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Burr;  "the  value  of  that  home,  of  its  attrac- 
tiveness and  beauty,  has  been  unspeakable  to  those  boys,  but  it 
has  also  brought  its  cash  return.  Even  a  hired  hand  could  not 
be  careless  in  a  place  so  beautifully  kept,  so  cheerful,  so  pretty 
as  that  was.  The  beauty  of  the  house,  like  the  gleam  of  a  lamp, 
widened  out  over  the  whole  farm.  Where  are  fences  straighter, 
walls  truer,  fields  smoother,  clumps  of  trees  and  single  fine  trees 
left  to  better  advantage?  Where  is  every  bit  of  rubbish  so 
gathered  up  and  put  to  use?  What  increased  value  per  acre  has 
not  that  farm  gained  from  the  beautiful  hedges  near  the  front- 
hedges  planted  and  trimmed  by  the  boys— from  the  choice 
shrubbery,  from  the  grapes  and  small  fruits,  from  the  shade 
before  the  house,  the  porches  and  arbors,  twe  fine  flowers,  and 
that  unsurpassed  vegetable  garden?  If  Cousin  Reuben  hinted 
at  selling  he'd  get  a  dozen  high  offers.  But  he  knows  too  much 
to  put  that  place  in  market;  he  will  keep  it  to  make  Dick  and 
Jack  rich." 

It  is  now  two  years  since  Hester  married.  As  she  said  she 
should  do,  she  cho.se  a  scholar,  a  .scientific  man,  often  off  on  long 
tours  in  government  service.  Hester  usually  goes  with  him. 
They  live  at  John  Kocheford's,  and  John  is  perfectly  satisfied. 
Hester  keeps  the  house.  The  phrases  "wax-work"  and  "clock- 
work," as  applied  to  the  nicencss  and  the  running  order  of  that 
house,  do  not  in  my  view  express  its  perfection ;  somehow  she 


THE  BEAUTY  OF   THE   HOME. 


157 


seems  to  manage  the  place  even  when  she  is  gone.  I  was  sitting 
with  Hester  for  an  hour  the  very  day  after  this  visit  at  Mrs. 
Winton's,  and  I  happened  to  tell  her  of  our  conversation  about 
Beauty  in  a  Home. 

"What  you  say  about  good  taste  creating  beautj-  from  small 
resources,"  said  Hester,  "is  quite  true.     I  remember  a  ca.se  in 
point.     Tlierc  was  at  school  with  me  a  young  girl  whose  room 
was  one  of  the  mo.st  beautifully  arranged  in  the  building,  though, 
as  she  was  poor,  she  had  no  money  to  spend  on  it,  and  no  orna- 
ments which  cost  money.     A  pot  of  growing  ferns,  a  wreath  of 
pressed  fall  leaves,  a  basket  made  of  pine  cones,  a  bracket  curi- 
ously fashioned  of  lichen-covered  sticks,  a   bouquet  of  dried 
gras.ses,  burrs  and  seed  pods  of  autumn  flowers,  lent  a  charm  to 
the  little  plain  room.     Beauty  .seemed  to  grow  under  her  fingers ; 
she  had  such  perfect  order,  such  neatness,  so  many  useful  con- 
trivances, that  her  room  served  as  a  model  for  all  the  rest.     She 
married  a  home  mi.ssionary.     I  was  at  her  simple  wedding,  and 
helped  her  pack  her  trunks.     She  had  very  little  to  take  with 
her  for  the  furnishing  of  her  home,  yet  I  felt  certain  it  would  be 
I.eautiful.     I  remember  that  she  Irid  in  one  of  her  boxes  a  largo 
bundle  of  fragments  of  cloth  and  worsted  stuffs,  and  that  she, 
•atherto  my  surpri.se,  purchased  at  an  auction  some  remnants 
of  paper  cambric,  chintz  and  coarse  Swiss  muslin;  they  were 
very  cheap,  but  I  wondered  why  she  chose  them.     I  ,ast  summer, 
when  I  went  with  my  hu.sband  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  wu 
passed  within  ten  miles  of  my  friend's  Western  home,  and  I  took 
a  day  to  drive  over  to  see  her,  being  also  the  br.rer  of  some 
gifts  from  her  schoolmates.    The  house  was  an  unpainted  wooden 
building,  and  only  one  floor  had  a  carpet;  but,  as  I  expected, 
the  little  ph.ce  breathed  good  taste,  and  was  beautiful.     She  had 
trained  vines  over  doorway  and  windows:  the  chintz  whtcn  I 
had  despised  m.ide  ruffled  lambrequins  for  the  window...     She 
laughingly  said  she  had  furnished  Iier  h(  use  with  dry  goods 


HjiiMti 


158 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


r 


boxes.  Sure  enough,  two  such  boxes  covered  with  chintz  made 
a  pair  of  pretty  divans;  the  bed-rooms  liad  dainty  toilette  tables 
made  of  other  dry  goods  boxes,  draped  in  the  Swiss  muslin  over 
the  colored  cambric.  The  bundle  of  woollen  fragments  had 
turned  into  mats  and  footstool  covers;  she  had  converted  a  bar- 
rel into  a  sewing-chair,  and  another  into  a  work-table.  In  truth, 
the  little  four-roomed  house  was  the  tasteful  home  of  a  lady,  and 
the  little  shed  kitchen  in  the  rear  was  so  clean,  so  handily 
arranged,  that  she  need  never  blush  to  invi*-n  any  one  into  it.  I 
never  realized  so  completely  the  creative  power  of  good  taste. 
Her  husband  had  put  a  pine  board  for  a  mantel  in  their  sitting- 
room,  but  she  had  hidden  this  and  a  bracket  to  match  with  a 
cover  of  oriental  work,  which  was  really  elegant,  and  on  these 
she  had  placed  the  vases  and  other  souvenirs  which  her  school- 
mates gave  her  at  parting,  and  with  the  fresh  wild  flowers  in  the 
vases,  they  lent  the  room  t'-  '■'•rm  of  elegance.  I  well  knew 
where  she  got  tivic  f'^'-  :''»ag  uji  ih  ngs  :  she  is  one  of  those  who 
rest  by  change  of  work,  r      mvc  the  moments  that  other 

people  waste." 

This  subject  of  Beauty  in  the  Home  became  a  favorite  theme  of 
mine,  and  it  happened  that  we  had  it  pretty  thoroughly  discussed 
once,  whdii  Helen,  Miriam,  Cousin  Ann,  her  daughter  Sarah, 
and  myself,  were  invited  to  take  tea  with  Hester.  It  was  in  the 
autumn,  and  He.stcr  had  spent  the  preceding  day  with  Cousin 
Ann,  and  with  Sarah  had  been  .searching  "  wintcf  ornaments." 

"  Did  you  get  holly,  juniper  and  bryony-vinc  ?  "  asked  Miriam. 

"  No,"  said  Sarah :  "  we  always  leave  those  for  Christmas,  but 
we  got  grasses  of  various  kinds,  and  silk-weed  pods,  and  .sticks 
covered  with  lichens,  and  branches  of  pine-cones ;  if  one  ha;i  a 
(juick  eye  in  selecting,  you  can  gather  in  fall  fadeless  winter 
bouquets  which  are  as  beautiful  as  summer  bouquets.  I  got  a 
lartrc  round  of  thick  green  mos<«,  and  some  squawberry-vinos 
mingled  with  it,  and  a  delicate  little  fern  to  plant  right  in  tl.c 


1). 


THE   BEAUTY  OF   THE  HOME.  159 

centre;  with  a  pine-burr  and  a  couple  of  striped  snail-shells 
it  has  made  a  lovely  ornament  for  the  middle  of  our  dining- 
table." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Cousin  Ann,  "my  meals  always  taste 
better  for  a  bouquet,  or  a  moss-plate,  or  a  pot  of  fern  in  the 
middle  of  the  table.  In  summer  we  use  fresh  flowers.  It  does 
not  take  long  to  gather  a  few  and  put  them  in  a  little  vase  or 
glass,  and  it  cheers  the  whole  family  up  to  see  them.  The  men 
come  in  hot  and  tired,  and  the  very  look  of  a  pretty  table  com- 
forts them;  father  and  the  boys  often  say  just  to  see  the  pot  of 
flowers  and  the  shining  white  cloth  is  better  than  a  meal  in  some 
houses." 

"Reed's  wife,"  said  Sarah,  "got  that  idea  from  mother,  and 
she  has  made  a  pretty  centre-piece  for  her  table— just  a  common 
red  earthen  flower-pot,  a  five-cent  one,  with  a  thrifty  fern  in  it, 
and  a  round  of  moss  filling  the  top  of  the  pot  around  the  fern 
stem;  then  on  each  side  of  the  pot  she  put  a  picture,  and  the  pot 
stands  in  a  saucer,  so  that  it  will  not  soil  the  table;  the  pictures 
on  the  pot  were  two  pretty  ones  from  a  fruit-can,  and  when 
thc;^  were  varnished,  you  have  no  idea  how  nicely  the  thing 
looked." 

"I  iried  a  bouquet  for  my  tea-table,  but  it  got  upset  so  often, 
between  the  children  and  the  servants,  that  I  gave  it  up," 
remarked  Helen. 

"Manage  it  as  I  do,  then,  Helen."  said  Hester;  "our  gas- 
fixture  is  just  over  the  centre  of  the  table,  and  I  made  a  net  of 
crystal  beads,  the  net  just  held  a  goblet  which  had  been  broken 
from  the  stem ;  that  goblet  I  fill  with  water  and  keep  my  flowers 
ami  vines  in  that.  They  set  off  the  table  as  well  as  if  they  stood 
on  it." 

"  I'm   glad  you  mentioned  that,"  said  Mary  Watkins,   "  for 
though  we  have  no  gas  we  have  a  h.ino-incT  li.rl.f .  ,,,„  i.i,......,,j 

put  a  hook  in  the  ceiling  and  hung  a  lamp  by  little  chains,  for 


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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


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fear  Nettie  might  pull  a  table  lamp  over.  I  shall  tie  a  little 
willow  basket  with  a  dish  in  it  to  that,  and  have  a  vine  in  it;  I 
have  wanted  something  of  the  kind,  only  I  could  not  keep  it  out 
of  Nettie's  reach.     I  do  love  to  see  a  nice,  tasteful  table  for 

meals." 

"Well,"  said  Cousin  Ann,  "if  you'll  take  care  to  have  a  clean, 
well-ironed  cloth,  and  a  bit  of  something  bright  for  a  centre- 
piece, and  lay  the  dishes  neatly,  and  have  the  forks  and  knives 
bright,  you  will  find  that  such  a  table  is  a  great  sweetener  of  the 
family  temper;  it  makes  a  very  homely  meal  seem  like  a  feast, 
and  children  can  hardly  show  ill  manners  before  what  is  so 
refining.  Don't  forget:  these  little  things  tell  on  the  children." 
"The  table-cloths  are  a  deal  of  trouble,"  said  Mary:  "they 
get  rumpled  so  very  soon." 

"It  pays  in  washing  and  ironing,  in  soap  and  time,  to  put  a 
little  starch   in  them,"  said  Cousin  Ann;  "iron  them  in  small 
folds,  and  press  them  hard;  turn  the  folds  back  and  forth  like 
the  leaves  of  a  book,  not  over  and  over,  like  wrapping  a  bundle. 
As  soon  as  the  cloth  is  shaken,  or  brushed  off  with  a  clean  wing 
or  a  table-brush,  fold  it  in  the  original  folds,  lay  it  in  a  dr.Wr, 
or  keep  a  pasteboard  box  of  the  right  size  for  the  cloth  alone, 
and  on  top  of  the  cloth  lay  a  stone  of  exactly  the  same  si7.e. 
or  a  slab  of  marble ;  if  you  can't  get  either,  have  a  little  board 
with  a  brick  on  it ;  there's  always  some  way  to  get  along  if  one 
is  bent  on  getting  along.     Take  first-rate  care  of  the  table-cloth ; 
a  tidy  cloth  is  half  the  meal,  to  my  mind." 

"And  there's  the  little  matter  of  trimming  dishes,"  said 
Miriam;  "some  plain  dish,  or  something  cooked  over,  looks  and 
tastes  so  nicely  with  a  little  trimming.  I  never  saw  such  a  per- 
son as  Mrs.  Winton  for  that.  If  she  boils  a  ham  or  a  leg  of 
mutton,  .she  trims  the  bone  end  with  a  ruffle  of  white  paper  cut 
in  narrow  r^trips  nnd  curled  on  tho  scissors;  Mie  pepper  is  put  on 
in  round  .spots,  and  cither  cloves  or  parslcy-lcavcs  arc  stuck  io 


THE   BEAUTY  OF  THE  HOME.  jgj 

here  and  there;  the  thing  becomes  beautiful.  She  has -a  plate 
of  cold  shced  meat,  and  around  the  edge  of  the  dish  is  a  wreath 
of  parsley  or  celery-leaves,  and  a  few  slices  of  lemon  are  laid  on 
the  meat.  Docs  she  have  a  dish  of  stewed  meat,  a  wall  of 
mashed-potato  surrounds  the  platter,  the  stew  goes  inside  and 
the  whole  is  trimmed  with  diamond-shaped  bits  of  carrot'  and 
beet;  .f  she  has  for  dinner  a  plate  of  codfish  and  potatoes 
mashed   together,   they  are   piled   in  a  mound,  furrowed,  and 

garnished   with    green    leaves    and    slices   of  hard-boiled  ec--. 

Hard-boiled  eggs  get  to  her  table  in  a  bed  of  green  leaves^" 

and  a  plate  of  sandwiches  is  topped  with  a  bouquet;  she  makes' 

beauty  and  poetry  out  of  everything." 

"  Yes,"  remarked  Co-.sin  Ann,  "  there  is  no  truer  economy 

than  a  httle  good  taste;  you  can  afford  to  economize  if  you  can 

make    your   cooked-over   dishes    look    handsomer   than   most 

people  s  first-hand  dishes." 

"Some  people  think,"  I  suggested,  "that  they  cannot  set  a 
handsome  table  unless  they  are  rich  enough  for  French  china 
plenty  of  s.lver  and  the  finest  damask,  but  some  of  the  best-look, 
.ng  tables  I  ever  sat  it,  cost  very  little  money.  Id  know  our 
|".n,ster-s  table  anywhere  .  saw  it.  by  some  pretty  little  napkins 
h.s  v..^.  l,as ;  they  are  laid  over  the  bread,  over  the  cake,  over  a 
plate  of  .sandwiches  or  buns,  and  they  are  the  d  untie.st  little 
thuigs!  She  cuts  a  yard  of  birds-eye  linen  into  eight  even 
P.cces,  fringes  out  each  piece  half  an  inch  deep,  overstitche. 

venly  with  red  working-cotton  to  keep  it  from  ravellmg  further 
.md  then  coral-stitches  a  border,  or  works  a  .sheaf  of  uhoat  ^ 
ner  own  ...i:,a!  in  the  centre  with  red  cotton :  she  says  t!>->v  la^ 
for  years,  and  they  set  off  her  table  wonderfully  She  is  fond  of 
a  centre-piece  for  her  table,  and  .she  has  a  dwarf  fern  growing  i« 
a  large  conch  shell :  it  is  a  ve>y  charming  thing." 

''Ail  the  ornamenting  that   I  liave  tried."  said  Mary  ■'  i,  to 
hHve  parlor-ivy  and  son,e  other  little  vines  growing  in  bottles  of 


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7  HE   CO  Mr  I.  RTF.    HOME. 


water  behind  my  glasses  and  pictures,  and  they  succeed  very 
well :  I  must  accomplish  something  further." 

"  Many  people,"  I  remarked,  "  seem  to  think  that  we  can  secure 
beauty  only  by  profuse  money  outlay— that  beauty  is  in  the  ratio 
of  expense.     On  the  contrarj',  beauty  is  largely  independent  of 
expense.    The  least  handsome  parlor  that  I  ever  saw  was  a  very 
expensive  one— not  a  book  or  engraving  to  be  seen.     Staring, 
ill-painted  family  portraits,  which  had  cost  a  good  price,  deformed 
the  walls.     It  was  early  summer,  and  the  garden  had  plenty  of 
flowers,  but  not  one  was  in  the  parlor ;  instead,  silver  vases  of 
wax  monstrosities  and  porcelain  baskets  of  wax  fruit;  a  gaudy 
assertion  of  superabundant  dollars  and  dt-ficient  good  taste  was 
the  characteristic  of  the  room.     Natural  objects  confer  more 
beauty  on  a  room  than  artificial  ones:  shells,  flowers,  vines  are 
far    superior   for   ornament    to    china    figures   and   card-board 
work ;  indeed,  I  consider  work  on  card-board  the  least  beautiful 
of  any  kind  of  ornament,  and  I  would  it  were  banished,  for  it 
consumes  much  time,  and  is  very  dangerous  to  the  eyesight 
If  one  knows  how  to  blend  and  contrast  colors,  has  the  good 
taste  not  to  banish  books  from  a  room,  can  train  a  vine  of  ivy, 
make  a  moss  plate,  and  pile  up  artistically  a  handful  of  shells,  or 
make  a  rose-lipped  conch  the  receptacle  of  a  cluster  of  prim- 
roses, violets  or  hyacinths,  they  will  have  beauty  in  their  rooms." 
V  I  am  glad."  said  Mar)%  "  that  to  procure  beauty  I  am  not 
to  be  otiiged  to  make  much  fancy  work,  for  with  my  house- 
work and  sewing,  I  have  little  time,  and  my  eyes  are  not  very 

strong." 

"  We  seem,"  said  Hester,  "  to  be  talking  about  beauty,  and 
not  about  eyes ;  but  what  advantage  is  beauty  unless  we  have 
eyes?  So  perhaps  I  shall  not  interrupt  our  discourse,  if  I  sug- 
gest to  Mary  how  to  care  for  her  eyes.  First,  don't  read  or 
work  lying  daivn:  it  strains  the  eyes  by  using  them  at  an  unnat- 
ural angle ;  don't  use  them  on  print  or  work  so  fine  as  to  make 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  HOME.  jgg 

^hcm  feci  strained  in  the  use.     When  they  burn,  smart  or  seem 
dm,  rest  them,  if  it  is  only  for  five  minutes,  by  looking  at  other 
thmgs   or  closing   them,  and   by  bathing  them  in  cold  water 
Always  bathe  them  freely  in  ..A/ water,  never  in  hot  or  warm 
water;  don't  sleep,  sit  or  work  with  the  light  falling  full  on  your 
eyes:  let  .t  fall  over  your  shoulder  upon  the  book  or  work  • 
have  your  sleeping-room  dark,  no  lamp-light;  and  grand  final' 
mstrucfon.  just  before  going  to  bed,   bathe  your  eyes,  behind 
your  can,  the  back  of  your  neck  and  the  top  of  your  head,  with 
cold  water,  plentifully,  and  do  the  same  the  first  thing  in  the  ' 
morning;  thus  you  reach  and  strengthen  the  nerves  communi- 
catmg  with  the  eye,  and  you  will  be  almost  sure,  by  observing, 
these  rules,  to  preserve  your  eyesight,  and  to  strengthen  it  if  Tt 
IS  feeble." 

"I  have  heard,- said  Helen,  "that  it  is  very  good  to  bathe 
the  eyes  m  cold  tea." 

"  If  you  use  black  tea,  then,  as  you  are  sure  there  is  no 
poisonous  color  in  it.  if  you  use  it  cold,  the  tea  being  cold  and 
a  gentle  astringent  may  be  beneficial;  but  I  never  like  to  try 
on  my  eyes  anything  but  cold  water,  and  plenty  of  it " 

"The  cold  water  bathing  night  and  morning."  I  said    "if 
accompanied  by  a  hearty  rubbing  with  a  coarse  towel,  is  not 
only  good  for  the  eyes,  b-t  is  almost  a  sure  preventive  of  colds 
_  m  the  head,  influenza  and  catarrh.     A  person  who  uses  thus 
water,  of  the  temperature  of  the  air,  summer  and  winter,  is  little 
l.kcly  to  take  cold.     I  have  even  recommended  this  remedy  to 
those  who  seemed  suffering  with  a  chronic   cold,  or  a  close 
succession  of  bad  colds,  and  they  found  the  cold  cured  and  no 
others  followed  it.     The  heads  and  throats  of  children  should 
be  thus  bathed,  and  well  rubbed,  night  and  morning,  to  prevent 
-re   throat,    croup   and    kindred    troubles.     Nothin.    i.    .nor^ 
inc/fcctual  for  these  disorders  than  housing  up  children.     Let 
them  be  used  to  cold  water,  well  wrapped,  and  then  let  them 


\*A\ 


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164 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


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At  the  tea-table  we  resumed  our  conversation  on  Beauty  in 
the  Home :  a  theme  from  which  we  had  drifted  to  questions  of 
health.     Hester  made  some  remarks  which  I  hked  very  much. 

She  said ; 

"  The  pursuit  of  Beauty  is  not  to  be  esteemed  a  whim  belong- 
in"  to  a  delicate  rather  than  a  strong  brain.     It  is  not  a  conde- 
scension of  the  intellect,  not  the  by-play  of  vigor,  not  a  tnfle  on 
the  surface  of  things-it  is  in  man's  mind  a  reflection  cast  by 
the  mind  of  the   Creator,  who   made  man  in  his  own   .mage. 
•Hugh  Miller,  in  his  '  Schools  and  Schoolmasters,'  suggests  that, 
wherever  man  pursues  either  utility  or  beauty,  he  takes  a  path 
where  God  has  gone  before  him;  and  (iven  in  so  small  a  matter 
as  painting  the  panels   of  a  coach,  he  will   find   that  he   has 
followed  '  nature's  geometric  signs,'  and  combined  the  hues  and 
contrasted   the   colors,   as    God,  in   bird,  or   flower,  or   msect. 
painted  them  long  before." 

We  all  concluded  that  we  could  not  do  better  than  follow  m 
the  footsteps  of  such  lofty  authority,  and  cultivate  Beauty  as 

heartily  as  possible. 

In  considering  the  subject  of  Beauty  in  the  Home,  several 
points  have  struck  me.     First,  there  can  be  no  real  beauty  with, 
out  neatness  and  order.     A  stand  of  plants  in  fine  bloom  may 
be  an  object  of  beauty  in  a  room,  but  it  cannot  create  beauty 
over  a  dirty  or  ragged  carpet.     Good  engravings  are  also  con- 
ducive  to  beauty;  but  if  the  husband  hangs  good  pictures  on 
the  walls,  and  the  wife  litters  the  whole  room  with  the  threads 
and  scraps  from  her  sewing  machine,  the  pleasing  is  lost  to  the 
eye  in  the  unpleasing.     Parents  should  make  their  children  full 
sharers  in  the  best  things  of  Home ;  but  at  the  same  time  the 
children  .should  be  taught  to  prize  and  maintain  the  beauty  of 
thcM-  home.    Their  sports  and  manufactures,  which  are  rough, 
noisy  and  productive   of  dirt,  should  be  kept  in  some  place 
apart,  and  they  .should  be  encouraged  to  bring  their  books,  their 


THE  BEAUT y  OF  THE  HOME. 


1G5 


*lean,  quiet  games,  their  drawing,  where  their  parents  and  elder 
friends  are;  thus  family  companionship  will  be  secured,  without 
provoking  that  untidiness  which  is  incompatible  with  beauty. 

Second.  I  should  say  that  true  beauty  does  not  belong  to 
things  showy  and  insubstantial.  Some  people  get  cheap,  showy 
furniture  and  carpets,  thinking  that  as  it  is  cheap  they  can 
afford  more  of  it;  while  the  truth  is  that  the  more  of  it  the 
worse  it  looks,  and  that  a  few  good  things  are  far  better  than  a 
good  many  poor  ones.  When  we  must  get  cheap  things 
because  we  have  but  little  money,  then  let  them  be  very  plain : 
for  nothing  is  uglier  than  cheap  gilding.  If  we  have  plain 
things  which  do  not  cost  much,  then  the  value  has  been  put 
into  the  material  and  making,  and  they  are  likely  to  last  a  long 
time  without  failing  in  appearance  ;  while  if  the  things  are  showy 
and  cheap,  the  money  has  gone  for  paint  and  gilding,  which 
will  soon  tarnish  and  crack  off,  the  wood  will  warp,  the  glue 
prove  treacherous,  and  our  possessions  will  be  a  wreck.  A  look 
of  substantial  comfort  and  rest,  welcomes  you  to  a  room,  and 
gives  the  impression  of  beauty.  When  you  give  up  the  idea  of 
costliness  and  fine  display,  take  comfort  for  your  aim.  The 
little  money  which  would  buy  cheap  shades,  a  varnished  table, 
a  narrow,  stiff  little  hair-cloth  sofa,  will  pay  ten  times  as  well 
in  use  and  beauty,  invested  in  good  chintz  for  a  lounge  and 
chair-cushions,  and  for  lambrequins  to  the  windows,  and  a  good 
cloth  for  a  common  table ;  or  have  your  curtains  of  white  or 
pale-hued  lawn,  and  buy  lady's  cloth  for  your  table-cover,  and 
embroider  the  edge  in  oriental  work  of  some  kind.  Speaking 
of  furniture,  children  should  not  bo  allowed  to  treat  it  with 
disrespect;  they  will  be  just  as  happy  in  proudly  helping  to 
take,  care  of  it,  as  in  destroying  it.  There  is  not  beauty  in  a 
room  where  children  have  daubed  the  floor  and  table-cover  with 
paste  and  ink;  where  they  have  stood  on  ihc  chair-seats  and 
sofas  or  lounges,  until  the  covers  are  rent  or  ^dcd;  where  they 


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166 


THE   COMPLETE   HOME. 


have  "kicked  the  chair-rungs,  and  table-legs,  and  base-boards 
until  they  are  all  dents  and  scratches.  Let  them  learn  not  to 
stand  on  upholstery.  If  they  must  paint  or  paste  in  these  rooms, 
it  is  small  trouble  to  teach  them  to  spread  a  large  newspaper 
over  the  table-cover  or  carpet,  where  they  are  at  work ;  let  them 
have  their  own  chairs  and  stools  fit  for  their  size,  and  then  the 
tired  little  legs  dangling  in  mid-air  will  not  be  tempted  to  grind 
varnish  from  adjacent  furniture. 

Third.  In  pursuit  of  beauty  and  ornament,  don't  crowd : 
nothing  is  more  beautiful  than  breathing  room  and  space  to 
turn  around  safely.  Walls  covered  w'x'Ca.  frames,  brackets,  autumn 
leaves  and  the  like,  look  patchy :  we  must  not  try  to  turn  our 
homes  into  museums  or  picture  galleries;  disgust  accompanies 
surfeit  of  the  eye  as  well  as  of  the  stomach,  and  there  is  an  old 
story  that  "  *;  njgh  is  as  good  as  a  feast,"  may-be  better  in  its 
results. 

Fourth  '/'  hen  we  seek  Beauty  for  our  Home,  let  us  remem- 
ber that  e.'cvy  luiman  soul  has  to  some  degree  a  capacity  for 
beauty ;  that  what  is  the  choice  life  of  our  own  Home,  flourishes 
well  in  other  Homes.  If  we  love  beauty  for  itself,  we  shall 
desire  to  disseminate  it  wherever  we  go — to  widen  its  refining 
reign  in  the  world.  We  shall  consider  first,  that  Beauty  in  our 
own  homes  is  not  to  be  confined  to  our  own  parlor  or  bed-room, 
or  to  our  children's  and  guests'  rooms;  our  servants  should  be 
made  sharers  in  it.  The  kitchen,  because  it  is  a  kitchen,  is  not 
beyond  the  influence  of  Beauty:  when  we  reflect  how  really 
beautiful  some  farm  kitchens  are,  we  may  conclude  that  village 
and  town  kitchens  may  be  made  beautiful  in  their  degree,  even 
though  they  do  not  open  on  clover  fields  in  bloom.on  sweet,  old- 
fashioned  gardens,  where  hollyhocks  tower  over  currant  bushes, 
and  hop  vines  wave  tasselled  banners  in  the  breeze.  Then 
there  are  our  servants'  rooms:  how  ofl:en  have  I  heard  mistresses 
complain  that  the  maids  kept  their  room  so  untidy!     Did  t>"fl 


THE  BEAUTY  OF   THE  HOME. 


167 


mistress  try  to  beautify  it?  Did  she  encourage  the  maid  to  k.ep 
it  nicely  ?  The  bed  is  left  unmade  ?  Well,  were  the  bed-clothes 
whole  and  clean,  with  a  decent  outside  spread,  or  were  they 
worn-out  rubbish,  too  bad  for  any  others  of  the  family  to  use? 
Was  there  a  little  curtain  to  the  window,  a  bit  of  carpet  by  the 
bed,  a  stand  neatly  covered  for  lamp,  Bible,  bo.u  or  any  of 

the  girl's  little  treasures  ?     Were  there  liooks  for  ,othes,  and 

was  there  any  attempt  to  ornament  the  walls  ?  Would  the  Home 
have  been  poorer  for  a  cture  or  two,  a  comb-basket,  and  a  wall- 
pocket  ?  If  we  cultivate  Beauty  in  our  Homes,  let  us  do  it  thor- 
oughly, and  let  all  share  in  it. 

Again,  if  we  have  any  new  or  good  ideas  of  increasing  the 
Beauty  of  a  Home,  let  us  not  be  chary  of  sharing  our  wisdom 
with  our  friends  and  neighbors;  let  us  be  glad  to  help  make 
other  homes  beautiful.     And  when  we  are  visiting  the  sick  and 
poor,  let  us  remember  that  somewhere  in  their  hearts,  dormant, 
may-be,  or  benumbed  under  many  rebuffs,  is  the  love  of  Beauty,' 
and  let  us  try  and  revive  it,  and  shed  a  little  of  its  light  on  their 
paths.     It  will  be  to  many  medicine  to  mind  and  body.     I  recall 
a  case  here  in  point.     I  had  a  protegee,  a  poor  humpbacked 
^  girl,  very  weakly,  confined  to  her  invalid  chair  in  a  little  bed- 
room opening  from  a  larger  place  occupied  by  her  mother,  who 
took  in  washing,  and  her  father,  who  cobbled  shoes.     She  was  a 
nxe  girl,  and  labored  painfully  at  knitting,  to  help  earn  her 
living.     I  had  helped  the  poor  family  get  these  two  rooms,  which 
were  well  sunned  and  capable  of  being  well  aired.     Helen  had 
given  the  invalid  a  bit  of  carpet  and  a  white  curtain,  and  Miriam 
had  bestowed  on  her  some  bedding;  we  all  helped  her  get  work, 
and  now  and  then  sent  her  soup,  biscuits,  a  paper,  or  a  book.     I 
left  home  for  six  weeks,  and  requested  Hester  to  look  after  Mar- 
garet during  my  absence.     When  I  went  to  visit  my  charge  on 
my  return,  I  found  her  whole  room  brighter,  her  face  brighter, 
and  her  health  better  by  far;  she  seemed  to  have  a  new  inleresi 
in  things.     Presently  she  said  : 


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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


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"  Do  look  at  my  wiiulow— isn't  it  beautiful?  Mrs.  Nugent 
showed  mc  how  to  fix  all  those  things  one  day  while  I  was  sick, 
and  now  when  I  feel  very  badly  I  have  only  to  look  ai  those 
growing  things,  ami  I  furjct  my  troubles ;  you  see  I  did  the 
work  myself,  and  it  has  been  so  lovely  to  see  the  change ! " 

A  glass  fruit-jar  hung  in  the  centre  of  the  window  by  a  red 
cord;  in  this  was  a  sweet  pol.ito,  filling  the  jar  with  white  roots, 
and  sending  down  outside  delicate  vines.  On  either  side  hung 
by  cords  a  carrot  and  a  turnip  turned  upside  doivn,  hollowed  into 
little  baskets,  and  filled  with  water;  they  had  sent  out  a  fine 
leafage,  and  were  globes  of  green.  A  shallow  raisin-box.  stood 
on  the  window-sill ;  it  was  filled  with  earth,  and  heue  the  sick 
girl  had  planted  .seeds,  and  set  a  bulb  and  a  slip  or  two,  herself, 
and  rejoiced  to  watch  them  grow.  She  had  cut  common  pictures 
from  the  papers  and  pasted  them  on  the  bo.\,  and  it  really  looked 
very  well.  Hester  had  also  given  her  some  bits  of  silk  and 
merino,  and  shown  her  how  to  make  herself  a  knitting-bag,  a 
pin-cushion,  a  pair  of  wall-pockets  in  which  to  keep  the  various 
little  things  which  she  needed,  and  which  had  hitherto  encum- 
bered her  room. 

"Don't  I  look  nice!"  .she  cried,  leaning  back  with  a  sigh  of 
.satisfaction;  "why,  I  feel  almost  well,  making  and  enjoying 
these  things:  it  is  flir  prettier  work  than  knitting,  and  Mrs.  Nu- 
gent says  if  I  become  handy  at  it,  perhaps  she  can  find  some 
shop  where  they  will  take  a  basket  of  my  work  to  .sell." 

I  took  a  lesson  from  that  of  the  power  of  beauty,  of  variety 
and  of  new  interests,  over  the  sick  and  poor.  But  all  that  is 
external  has  its  chief  value  as  it  affects  the  internal,  and  the  great 
value  of  the  cultivation  of  Ueauty  in  our  Homes  is  th;it  it  tends 
to  soften  and  refine  the  manners,  make  the  heart  innocently  busy 
and  happy,  and  encourage  a  Love  of  Home. 

While  this  .subject  of  Heauty  in  the  Home  has  been  especially 
occupying  my  mnul.  !  have  noticed  in  my  vi.sjts  to  my  friends 


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THE  BEAUTY  Ofi    THE  HOME.  jgg 

several  simple  styles  of  ornament,  which  are  worthy  of  attention 
Hester  gave  he;  father  a  fire-screen  for  a  Christmas  p'resenf  as 
John  uses  an  open  grate-the  most  beautiful  and  healthful  kind 
of  a  fire-th.s  screen  was  very  acceptable  to  him  for  use,  as  well 
as  for  beauty.    Hester  had  procured  two  large  panes  of  window- 
glass,  twenty  inches  by  two  feet.    On  one  of  these  she  had  glued 
large  pressed  ferns,  a  spray  of  autumn  leaves,  some  grasses  and 
several  moths  and  butterflies,  oi  which  she  used  the  wings'  and 
pamted  m  the  bodies ;  she  arranged  these  materials  on  the  glass 
until  the  whole  represented  a  lovely  bit  of  forest  scenery.     She 
then  cemented  the  other  pane  of  glass  upon  this  one,  so  that  the 
ornaments  were  between  the  two,  and  the  cement  at  the  edo-es 
excluded  air.     She  h.d  this  double  glass  firmly  held  in  a  mc-tal 
frame,  and  fastened  to  a  screw  screen-stand.    I  never  saw  a  more 
tasteful  object  than  this  with  the  firelight  shining  through  it      I 
adm.red  it    o  much  that  Hester  came  to  my  house,  and  made  up 
one  of  the  large  panes  of  my  sitting-room  window,  in  this  same 
style,  fastening  her  second  sheet  of  glass  over  the  one  in  the 
wuidow,  so  I  have  now  an  exquisite  fragment  of  fern  scenery, 
with  the  sunlight  shining  through  it. 

Miriam  also  invented  a  method  of  window  trimming  for  the 

sash  around  her  front  door,  which  hitherto  had  been  white  glass 

shaded  with  vestibule  lace.     She  procured  for  each  of  the  nine 

panes  around  the  door  a  picture  representing  an  upright  piece 

of  statuary:  she  cut  out  this  picture,  and  with  very  clear  gum- 

arab.c-water  glued  it  with  its  face  to  the  pane.     The  next  day 

with  a  damp  sponge  she  removed  all  the  paper  on  the  back  of 

the   picture,  until  only  the  fine  film  on  which  the  picture  was 

stamped  remained :  this  she  had  been  careful  not  to  mar.    Again 

she  let  it  dry  fully,  and  then  painted  all  the  window  about'the 

picture  with  oil  paint  (artist's,  not  hou.se  paint);  she  laid  this  on 

evenly  and  very  thin,  in  a  solid  color,  and  when  it  was  drv 

varnished  the  whole  with  picture  varnish,  covering  both  paint 


,:i 


M  ' 


170 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


and  picture.  Each  pane  was  of  a  single  bright  color :  thus  the 
lower  left-hand  pane  was  orange,  the  next  emerald,  the  next 
scarlet,  the  first  transom  pane  indigo,  the  next  gray,  the  next 
indigo,  and  the  right-hand  panes  matched  the  left :  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  hall  was  altered  by  this  ornamentation  of  the 
door,  and  I  told  her  it  was  a  treat  to  come  down  her  stairs  and 
look  at  this  pretty  imitation  of  painted  glass. 

Miriam's  window  suggested  an  idea  to  Mary  Watkins  for  her 
sitting-room.  Mary  presses  flowers  very  beautifully :  she  glued 
some  delicate  sprays  of  blue  flowers  upon  one  of  her  windows, 
and  varnished  the  window  with  picture  varnish ;  the  effect  was 

charming. 

Hester  has  in  her  sitting-room  a  fine  aquarium,  but  she  has 
time  and  money  for  such  things.  Still  I  think  an  aquarium  both 
beautiful,  and,  in  a  house  full  of  children,  a  useful  object  to 
interest  them  in  natural  things.  Helen  has  a  row  of  hyacinths 
in  glasses,  and  Miriam,  on  a  common  stand  covered  with 
oil-cloth,  has  a  bed  of  moss  and  a  rockery,  in  which  little  rock- 
ferns  are  growing,  and  where  some  real  snail-shells  and  some 
stuffed  birds  look  very  beautiful.  Cousin  Ann's  Sarah  gave 
me,  on  my  birthday,  a  wire  basket  with  a  dish  in  it  where  trail- 
ing vines  and  some  tall  ferns  were  growing,  and  poised  on  the 
handle  was  a  stuffed  robin,  looking  down  at  a  butterfly  which 
seemed  to  have  just  lit  on  a  spray  of  one  of  the  vines.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  ever  had  an  ornament  in  my  parlor  which  I 
admired  more.  So  do  art  and  nature  liberally  aid  us  in  the 
creation  of  Beauty  in  our  Homes. 


!i    'I 


i'' 


CHAPTER  VII. 

INDUSTRY   IN   THE   HOME. 
HOW   AUNT   SOPHRONIA   THINKS    INDUSTRY   BENEFITS   THE   HOME. 


5? 


AM  fond  of  reading,  and  spend  several  hours  each  day 
with  my  books.  Helen  laughs  at  my  library,  and  says 
she  does  not  understand  how  I  can  like  such  old-fash- 
ioned books  as  I  have ;  perhaps  the  very  reason  that 
they  suit  me  is  that  they  are  old-fashioned.  At  all  events,  there 
is  sound,  good  sense  in  the  volumes.  There  is  Franklin,  for 
instance:  what  a  mine  of  valuable  thoughts  in  his  works!  I 
was  reading  in  my  Franklin  only  this  morning,  and  I  paused 
over  this  passage:  "  Dost  thou  love  life?  Then  do  not  squander 
time,  for  that  is  the  stuff  life  is  made  of"  Shortly  after,  as  I  sat 
with  my  sewing,  the  second  Miss  Black  called.  She  cried  out : 
"Always  busy.  Miss  Sophronia!  Here  is  your  work-basket 
full,  and  I  see  your  book  is  open  on  the  table.  What  in  the 
world  do  you  find  to  do?     I  never  find  anything." 

"Then,  my  dear,"  I  replied,  "you  must  be  living  with  your 
eyes  shut,  for  I  never  yet  saw  any  one  to  whom  the  world  did 
not  offer  plenty  to  do.  When  God  created  Adam,  he  created 
also  a  business  for  Adam ;  he  did  not  make  him  a  gentleman  of 
leisure,  with  the  first  years  of  Creation  hanging  heavily  upon 
his  hands ;  and  so,  ever  since,  when  God  sends  a  icasonable  soul 
into  the  world,  he  sends  with  it  its  especial  work  and  round  of 
duties,  which  belong  to  no  other  soul :  believe  me,  God  investi- 
gates our  doings  here,  and  will  make  inquiry  whether  or  not  we 
performed  this  work  which  he  intends  for  our  doing  " 

'^   (171) 


iii 


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SHSSfflSS 


172 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


"You  look  SO  seriously  at  things,  Miss  Sophronia;  but  do 
tell  me  what  you  find  to  do.  You  have  your  nice  house,  your 
good  servant,  your  income :  you  might  sit  with  folded  hands." 

"  So  I  might,  but  I  should  hear  a  voice  in  my  ears :  '  What 
docst  thou  here?'     And  by-and-by  God  would  call  upon  me: 
'Give  an  account  of  thy  stewardship;'  and  being  compelled  to 
speak  the  truth,  suppose  that  I  must  say:  'O,  I  was  in  easy  cir- 
cumstances, and  I   sat  with  my  hands  folded.'     But  you  ask 
what  I  do.     I  have  my  housekeeping  to  look  to,  n)y  friends  to 
make  comfortable  when  they  visit  me,  and  my  sewing  to  do. 
Next  I  have  my  social  duties :   I  am  at  leisure,  and  the  expe- 
rience of  several  tens  of  years  is  in  my  keeping ;  therefore  I  feel 
an  especial  call  to  visit  the  sick.     When  a  family  is  down  with 
measles,  or  scarlet  fever,  or  some  other  epidemic,  why  should 
they  be  neglected,  or  the  mother  be  over-taxed,  when  I  am  at 
leisure  to  help?     So,  in  accidents,  I  am  often  sent  for:  thus  my 
work  among  the  sick  fills  up  a  good  many  hours.     Then  there 
are  aged  people  who  cannot  go  abroad,  and  chronic   invalids 
who  get  very  lonely  in  their  rooms,  and  feel  as  if  they  were  for- 
gotten :  I  visit  them.     The  poor  are  Christ's  legacy  to  all  those 
of  his  people  who  are  able  to  help  them,  and  I  have  my  rounds 
among  the  poor,  helping  them  with  gifts,  securing  work  for 
them,  advising  them,  getting  them   into  church  and   Sunday- 
school.     I  have  also  my  church  work:   having  leisure,  good 
health   and   a  few  dollars   to  spare,  I   ought  to   help  in   the 
benevolent  schemes  of  my  church,  and  I  do  that.     But,  while 
helping  others,  I   must   not   forget   my  own ;   and    my  nieces 
have  young  families.     I  can  be  a  great  help  to  them  by  takinjj 
home  part  of  their  sewing  and  mending,  taking  a  child  home 
here  for  a  week  if  the  mother  is  sick,  knitting  the  little  mit- 
tens and  stockings :  these  arc  trifles,  but  they  lighten  domestic 
cares  for  busy  mothers.     Then  once  a  year  Christmas  comes, 
and  I  want  to  make  presents  to  my  nieces  and  their  servants,  to 


INDUSTRY  IN  THE  HOME. 


173 


my  servants  and  poor  friends.  So,  my  dear  Miss  Black,  I  find 
work  for  all  my  time,  and  I  have  given  you  this  sketch  of  it, 
because  you  asked  me,  and  because,  as  you  say  you  have 
nothing  t3  do,  I  hoped  it  might  be  useful  to  you  in  suggesting 
lines  of  work.  But,  as  one  of  a  large  family,  I  should  suppose 
you  would  find  work  in  abundance." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Miss  Black.  "  Mother  keeps  the 
house,  and  then  there  are  the  servants  to  do  the  work." 

"  Did  you  never  see  your  mother  over-worked  ?  Is  she  not 
toiling  sometimes  until  greatly  fatigued,  or  when  she  has  a  head- 
ache? Pardon  me:  does  not  your  mother  look  too  old  for  her 
years?  Could  not  her  daughters  have  saved  her  some  of  that 
extra  work  which  wears  her  out?" 

"Why  don't  she  ask  help,  then?  She  never  does,"  cried  Miss 
Black. 

"  Some  mothers  have  a  false  idea  of  increasing  their  children's 
happiness  by  not  asking  them  to  work ;  and  then,  help  freely 
offered  is  better  than  help  demanded,  or  asked  for  half  a  dozen 
times,  or  argued  over.  I  have  seen  girls  scowl  at  being  asked  to 
help  for  an  hour  a  mother  who  had  been  toiling  exhaustingly 
for  eight  hours.  I  have  seen  other  girls  who,  with  quick  eye, 
sought  out  every  place  where  they  co- 'd  help,  and  when  finally 
bidden  by  the  busy  mother  to  go  r^ss,  walk,  read  or  visit, 
begged  to  be  allowed  some  other  share  of  work  until  they  might 
both  be  done  together.  But,  Miss  Black,  as  we  are  on  this 
subject,  and  ypu  have  introduced  it,  do  you  never  see  your  ser- 
vants over-worked?  the  kitchen-servant  ready  to  drop  with 
fatigue,  when  you  might  cheer  and  relieve  her  by  making  a 
cake,  a  few  pies,  a  pan  of  biscuits  or  setting  a  table?  Could  you 
not  find  a  time  when  the  other  maid,  who  does  up-stairs'  work 
and  sewing,  would  be  saved  from  really  too  severe  driving,  if 
ynu  swept  and  dusted  a  room  or  two,  or  lent  the  aid  of  yout 
needle  in  the  sewing-room?" 


fi 


174 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


"Dear  me,  it  never  entered  my  head,"  replied  the  young  lady. 
"  I  do  as  much  as  my  sisters,  and  we  all  do  nothing.  I  fix  up 
little  trimmings,  fancy  collars  and  cuffs,  or  such  things,  now  and 
then,  as  I  need  them.  I  put  the  flowers  in  the  parlor,  and  help 
my  sister  make  our  bed.  I  read  a  book  now  and  then  if  it  is 
interesting,  and  I  practise  some,  and  get  ready  my  dress,  if  I  am 
going  to  a  party,  and  I  sit  and  look  out  of  the  window,  or  I  take 
an  afternoon  nap:  we  sit  up  so  late,  having  evening  callers; 
and  I  go  shopping,  and  I  walk  around  the  streets,  or  make  a 
few  calls,  and — there,  that  is  all  I  do." 

"  But,  my  dear  girl,  what  of  all  this  is  useful  to  yourself  or  to 
others  ?  With  what  of  all  this  is  God  pleased  ?  What  of  all 
this  is  the  work  which  he  sent  into  the  world  for  your  doing?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know!    You  quite  frighten  me  ask.ng  that." 

".Consider  it  is  a  question  that  must  meet  you  some  day,  as  it 
is  appointed  unto  all  men  once  to  die,  and  after  that  comes  the 
judgment.     Reason  would  say,  have  an  answer  ready." 

"  Frankly,  Miss  Sophronia,  what  could  girls  like  myself  and 
my  three  sisters  do  ?     WHiat  ought  we  to  do?  " 

"  That  is  asking  a  stranger  a  delicate  question.  But  did  you 
never  hear  your  mother  complaining  of  pressure  of  work, 
worrj'ing  over  bills  for  sewing,  over  the  complaints  of  the 
servants?  Now  could  you  not  relieve  her  in  these  matters? 
Each  two  of  you  girls  share  a  room ;  why  not  one  of  you  take 
entire  charge  of  that  room  ?  sweeping,  dusting,  bed-making, 
mending  carpet,  towels,  bedding — in  fact,  being  responsible  for 
absolute  order  there.  The  other  two  could  then  take  care  one 
of  the  parlor,  one  of  the  dining-room,  keeping  all  bright  and  in 
repair.  Consider  how  much  better  it  would  be  done ;  how 
much  more  comfort  your  two  servants  would  have,  and  how 
much  longer  they  would  be  likely  to  stay ;  thus  your  mother 
vvoMld  be  greatly  relieved.  Suppose,  then,  one  of  you  girls 
made  all  the  cake,  another  all  the  desserts,  another  took  charge 


/XDUSTRV  /.V   -n/E  I/OAfE. 


175 


of  the  stockings  of  your  father  and  three  brothers,  another  made 
tlie  shirts :  you  see  the  two  servants,  in  a  family  of  nine,  would 
still  find  work  enough  ;  and  you  as  interested  parties  would  he 
economical  in  the  cooking  which  you  did,  and  your  mother, 
relieved  of  a  certain  share  of  her  mending  and  making  and 
supervising,  would  feel  her  vigor  renewed." 

"  But  we  don't  know  how  to  do  these  things  !  " 
"  You   ought  to   know  how,  and  the   sooner  you   learn  the 
better.     Your  mother  and  the  maids  would  teach  you  gladly." 
"  But  with  all  that  we  should  be  worked  to  death !  " 
"Pray,  then,  how  long  do  you  expect  your  mother  to  live? 
Rut  instead  of  being  worked   to   death,  you  would  all  be  in 
better  health,  have  finer  complexions,  better  .spirits  and  a  more 
cheerful  home— to  say  nothing  of  doing  your  duty  to  God,  your 
parents  and  j'our  fellow-creatures.     Did  you  ever  read  a  saying 
of  Sydney  Smith's?— '  Let  every  man  be  occupied,  and  occu- 
pied in  the  highest  employment  of  which  his  nature  is  cajiable, 
and  die  with  the  consciousness  that  he  has  done  his  best.'" 

"  No,"  .said  Miss  Black,  "  I  never  did.  I  am  half  inclined  to 
believe  you,  Miss  Sophronia,  that  we  should  be  happier  -f  we 
were  more  industrious.  Sometimes  when  wc  have  been  actually 
working  for  a  fair,  or  a  festival,  or  preparing  for  a  party,  we 
have  really  enjoyed  ourselves:  possibly,  it  was  because  we  were 
busy.  Certainly  I  don't  think  work  could  made  us  less  happy 
than  we  are:  for  you  never  saw  such  a  listless,  bored  set  as.  we 
are,  unless  wc  are  putting  on  our  best  spirits  to  entertain  a  few 
gentlemen  callers." 

"And  the  poor  father,  and  mother,  and  brothers— they  are 
treated  to  the  listlessness  and  boredom :  is  that  making  Home 
happy  ?  " 

"  I  fear  not.  I  never  thought  I  was  responsible  for  making 
Home  happy;  or  that  taking  hold  and  doing  something  was  a 
means  to  that  end.  I'll  tell  my  sifters  what  you  say,  and  think 
"t  over." 


i     ! 


V:.'.  iil-ii, 

I..;  -It:' 


i  . 


176 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


After  Miss  Black  liad  gone,  I  sat  considering  what  a  sin 
parents  commit,  who  do  not  bring  up  their  children  to  be 
industrious,  to  feel  that  every  home  should  be  a  hive  of 
industry,  that,  in  one  way  or  another,  every  member  of  the 
family  must  contribute  their  share  of  labor  to  home  activities. 
How  little  do  we  think  of  impressing  upon  the  minds  of  the 
young  the  fact,  that  God  expects  them  to  do  something !  As  far 
as  I  can  learn  from  the  Scripture,  heaven  itself  seems  a  place 
of  joyous  activity.  I  never  yet  read  of  a  good  person  who  was 
not  a  busy  person ;  business  and  happiness  seem  also  com- 
mingled in  this  world ;  and  activity,  useful  activity  and  good 
health  go  hand  in  hand.  Cultivate  laziness  in  a  child,  and  you 
cultivate  poverty,  poor  health,  unhappiness  and  crime.  What  a 
fashion  of  slow  suicide  is  this  much  talked  of  "  killing  our 
time!"  How  are  mothers  left  weary  and  discouraged,  who 
have  not  trained  their  children  to  help  them  heartily  and  lov- 
ingly !  The  hand  of  the  diligent  makcth  rich  ;  being  "  not  sloth- 
ful in  business  "  is  one  of  the  main  ways  of  serving  the  Lord, 
who  called  us  to  labor.  I  felt  quite  stirred  up  as  I  considered 
this  question,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  get  what  information 
on  the  subject  I  could,  and  to  talk  of  it  very  earnestly  with  my 
nieces  and  young  friends,  and  urge  them  to  train  up  their 
children  in  habits  of  industry  and  helpfulness — to  have  their 
Honus  centres  of  good  activity.  While  I  was  thinking  thus. 
Cousin  Ann  came  in.  She  had  driven  in  to  the  village  with  a 
quantity  of  eggs  and  butter  for  the  hotel,  and  she  came,  as  she 
often  docs,  to  take  dinner  with  me.  Of  course  I  did  not  betniy 
Miss  Black's  confidences,  nor  did  I  mention  Mrs.  Black's  greal 
failure  in  bringing  up  her  children;  but  I  said  to  Cousin  Ann._ 
when  she  was  comfortably  seated  and  had  begun  lu  knit  on  a 
-tocking  for  Helen's  Tom  : 

"  Cousin  Ann,  you  arc  never  idle,  and  your  children  are  just 
like  you  in  that." 


Iri 


INDUSTRY    IN    THE  HOME. 


Ill 


"  Trained  them  to  it,"  said  Cousin  Ann. 

"I  should  like  tc  know  how  you  did  it.  I  have  had  the  sub. 
ject  of  industry  and  indolence  in  Homes  brought  before  my 
mind  this  morning,  and  I  want  to  know  how  you  proceeded  in 
bringing  up  all  your  family  to  be  industrious," 

"  I  made  a  habit  of  it,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Cousin  Ann, 
"and  then  I  gave  them  an  object  in  it;  and  meantime  I  studied 
the  children  themselves,  so  as  to  direct  their  industr>'  as  far  as  I 
could  in  a  natural  bent,  and  not  m.akc  labor  a  bitterness  to  them. 
For  instance  Fred  always  took  to  gardcnin;        hile  Reed  had  a 
natural  love  of  animals,  and  Dick  has  always  been  a  terribly 
active  child,  with  big  muscles  which  wanted  to  be  exercised ;  a. 
boy,  who,  if  he  couldn't  let  off  his  energy  in  some  honest  hard 
work,  would  be  up  to  all  sorts  of  mischief,  just  to  get  a  vent  foe 
his  overflowing  animal  energy.     We  ought  to  study  children  in 
giving  out  their  work,  and  while  necessity  rules  often  in  distrib- 
uting employment,  wc  should  follow  the  natural  bent,  just  as  far 
as  we  can.     Well,  as  I  was  .saying,  I  made  industry  a  habit  for 
my  children.     I  taught  them  to  wait  on  themselves,  to  clear  up 
litter  which  they  made,  to  get  out  ard  put  by  their  own  toys. 
You  could  hardly  imagine,  Sophronia,  how  early  a  young  child 
can  be  taught  to  help.     I  did  my  own  work  when  Fred,  Reed 
and  Sarah  were  little— that  is,  most  of  the  time.     I  taught  them, 
first,  not  to  be  troublesome  to  me,  and  then  to  help  m^.     The 
little  things  could  bring  chips  or  wood  from  the  \vood-hou.se, 
stick  by  .stick,  or  feed  the  chickens,  or  open  and  shut  doors,  and 
so  on  to  larger  and  larger  things.     To  be  sure  they  made  mis- 
takes,  and  made  more  work  than  they  did,  in  the  very  effort  to 
help,  and  at  first  I  should  have  saved  time  and  toil  doing  it  all 
myself.     But  I  remembered  that  I  was  working  for  the  fiiturc, 
that  I  was  moulding  the  children  into  such  men  and  women  as 
they  would  be,  lliat  as  I  taught  them  now  I  should  be  heli)ed  by 

them  after  a  while :  so  I  kept  steadily  on  teaching  them.     They 
>       It 


«  !  il 


I     i 


I  r 


\H 


I  M^ 


m 


178 


7'J/£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


got  bruises  in  falls,  r.iii  splinters  into  their  fingers,  burnt  their 
busy  little  hands ;  but  those  misadventures  taught  them  careful- 
ness, and  through  it  all  they  got  a  fixed  habit  of  being  helpful 
and  busy,  and  of  not  silting  idle  when  there  was  work  to  be 
done,  and  other  jicople  were  busy.  Of  course,  you  understand 
me,  Sophronia.  I  don't  mean  that  now  Sarah  would  not  sit  down, 
or  take  a  book,  or  go  dress  herself,  because  there  were  dishes  to 
wash,  and  the  servant  was  washing  them;  so  long  as  the  girl 
knows  how  and  has  the  time,  her  own  work  can  be  left  to  her ; 
but  Sarah  feels  that  she  owes  to  God  the  right  use  of  her  time, 
and  she  would  not  dare  to  spend  an  idle  day;  she  changes  work, 
and  rests  in  the  change;  she  is  working  wnile  she  informs  her 
mind,  makes  her  clothes,  and  takes  her  part  in  the  homework 
of  all  kinds." 

"You  mentioned  giving  your  children  a  special  interest  in 
work,  as  well  as  a  fixcil  habit  of  doing  it,"  I  said. 

"Yes, 'in  all  labor  there  is  profit,' says  the  Scripture,  and  I 
wanted  my  chi!dre\\  practically  to  learn  that.  I  said  Fred 
naturally  loved  gardening.  I  set  him  at  it  early.  I  had  him 
help  me  in  my  garden  among  the  vegetables,  and  I  gave  him  a 
sunny  strip  of  |}order  for  iiimself,  where  he  planted  vegetables 
\vhich  he  sold  on  his  own  account — that  is,  when  wc  .sent  a  load 
of  vegetables  to  market,  Fred's  lettuces,  bunches  of  onions,  or 
radishes,  or  beets,  or  his  heads  of  cabbage  were  counted  in,  and 
he  got  what  'noney  ihey  brought.  He  did  not  rob  us  of  his 
help  while  he  raised  these  things :  he  got  the  time  by  putting 
industry  against  idleness.  We  wore  as  wel'  pleased  when  ht 
treated  himself  to  a  pair  of  skates  as  to  a  nice  book,  and  he 
always  gave  away  a  portion  of  his  own.  Reed,  on  the  other 
hand,  hated  gardening ;  ho  worked  in  the  garden  when  I  bid 
him,  but  it  was  just  as  easy  to  .set  Reed  to  tending  the  fowls,  to 
making  chicken-coops,  cleaning  the  hen-house,  putting  up  roosts, 
feeding  fowls,  pounding  fresh  bones  for  them,  or  feeding  the 


INDUSTRY  IN   THE  HOME.  179 

ealvcs  and  watering  the  horses :  he  did  these  things  well.     So 
he  was  given  his  especial  hen,  his  sheep,  his  calf,  and  he  worked 
like  a  hero,  to  bring  them  up  in  the  way  that  they  should  go;  to 
return  him  profit,  they  were  fed  and  housed,  and  cared  for  vvith 
all  his  might.     He  learned  the  care  of  stock,  and  you  know  he 
has  a  stock-farm  now,  and  many  of  his  brutes  are  of  his  own 
raising.     Sarah  early  learned  to  help  me  in  the  house,  and  she 
had  her  little  share  in  the  butter.     She  and  Fred  both  gathered 
and  sold  garden  seeds  and  sweet  herbs  to  the  grocer  here  in 
the  village,  and  as  she  grew  older,  when  by  extra  industry  she 
hemmed  a  set  of  sheets,  or  made  up  half-a-dozen  pair  of  pillow- 
cases, she  got  her  pay  for  them.     Not  that  any  of  them  learned 
to  claim  pay  from  us:  we  gave  it  and  they  took  it  as  an  encou,-. 
agcmcnt.     As  we  grew  better  off,  Sarah  got  her  allowance,  so 
that  she  would  know  how  to  use  money  wisely.     Dick  was 
allowed  to  u.^e  his  energies  in  wood-chopping,  in  hauling  fuel 
from  the  wood-lot,  in  cleaning  walks,  in  ploughing  before  and 
after  .school.     All  the  boys  were  set  at  helping  their  father  on 
the  farm  as  the  two  girls  helped  mc  in-doors.     When  they  pro- 
posed new  plans,  as  bee-keeping  or  sorghum-raising,  we  let  them 
try  it,  and  we  always  kept  them  in  school  and  gave  them  all  the 
books  and  papers  we  could.     Indeed,  Sophronia,  I  think  they 
have  been  as  happy  a  set  of  children  as  ever  lived,  and  as  indus- 
trious too," 

"  I've  no  doubt,"  I  replied,  "  that  their  happiness  rose  in  a 
large  degree  from  their  industry,  which  kept  them  from  moping 
and  mischief,  and  gave  them  the  peaceful  consciousness  of  well- 
doing, for  idleness  is  miseiy." 

"Some  mothers  think,"  resumed  Cousin  Aan,  "that  they  can 
get  no  help  in  the  house  from  boys:  if  they  have  no  daughters 
they  must  work  on  imaidcd.  I  have  seca  boys  sitting  in  a 
kitchen  when  their  mother  was  bringing  fuel,  or  water,  or  black- 
ing  a  stove,  or  when  their  sisters,  tired  with  wasJiing  or  baking, 


fi 


III 


H 


180 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


•A'crc  performing  these  tasks.     The  boys  had  been  at  work  out 
of  doors   perhaps,  or,  out-of-door  work  being  done,  they  had 
done  nothing;  if  they  hung  up  their  caps  and  put  by  their  boots 
it  was  as  much  as  they  thought  they  could  do  withm  doors. 
Now  I  hold  that  nothing  is  more  really  ennobling  and  improving 
to  a  boy  than  to  learn  to  do  little  things  to  help  his  mother  in 
the  house.     Where  servants  are  kept,  his  round  of  household 
duties  is  but  a  small  one,  but  he  should  be  taught  to  do  all  that 
he  can.     Why  cannot  he  learn  to  set  chairs  in  their  places?  to 
pick  up  and  fill  a  spilled  work-basket  ?  to  hold  and  amuse  a 
fretting  child?  to  carry  a  meal  to  an  invalid?  to  bathe  an  aching 
head?     All  th-se  things  will  not  make  him  'a  Miss  Nancy/  but 
will  tone  down  his  boyish  roughness,  ameliorate  his  awkward, 
ncss,  make  him  thoughtful  for  others,  and  so  truly  manly  in 
using  his  strength  to  aid  weakness.     I  taught  my  boys  to  sweep 
and  "dust  a  room;  to  scour  knives;  to  blacken  a  stove;  to  set  a 
table  ;  I  had  them  so  trained  that  they  would  have  scorned  to 
sit  by  a  stove  and  see  their  sister  or  mother  filling  the  stove  with 
fuel  or  bringing  a  bucket  of  water.     I  remember  once  being  al 
a  house  where  the  only  son  was  preparing  for  the  ministry;  the 
room  became   chilly;   his  worship   was   reading   a  paper;   he 
bawled  to  his  sister,  who  was  in  the  next  room  getting  dinner: 
«Mag!  bring  a  scuttle  of  coal  for  this  stove!'     I  made  up  my 
mind  that  that  flimily  had  not  been  trained  in  family  indusUy: 
the  industry  had  been  all  on  one  side.     Once  I  went  to  take  a 
firkin  of  butter  to  Mrs.  Winton.     It  was  a  number  of  years  ago. 
and  however  it  happened,  she  had  no  girl.     It  was  about  eight 
in  the  morning;  little  Grace  was  washing  the  dishes,  and  one  of 
her  brothers  was  drying  them;  the  oldest  boy  had  just  finished 
putting  the  dining-room  in  order,  and  I  tell  you  it  was  in  order. 
Nor  was  he  a  bit  ashamed  of  it.     He  said:  'Cousin  Ann,  see 
how  well  I  can  do  up  a  room :  this  is  all  my  work  to-day;  now 
if  you'll  wait  until  I  have  polished  the  breakfast-knives,  I'll  ride 


I 


INDUSl'RY  IN  THE  HOME. 


181 


as  far  as  school  with  you;'  and  Mrs.  Winton  told  mc  those  two 
boys  got  up,  made  the  fire,  filled  the  tea-kettle,  and  set  the 
breakfast-table,  before  she  and  Grace  got  down  to  cook  break- 
fast.    She  said  they  could  make  their  beds,  too." 

"It  didn't  hurt  them,"  I  said,  "for  those  two  Wintons  are  tlie 
very  first  young  men  in  this  town." 

"Hurt  them!  no,"  said  Cousin  Ann:  "North  Winton  will  not 
plead  a  case  less  eloquently  for  having  been  trained  to  be  useful, 
and  I  think  the  way  Robert  was  brought  up  to  wait  on  his 
mother  will  make  him  a  better  doctor.  In  fact,  Sophronia,  my 
rule  is,  to  have  a  busy  household,  and  give  every  member  a 
share  of  work." 

"I'm  glad  to  get  your  views,"  I  replied,  "for  I  mean  to  talk 
with  my  young  friends  about  activity  and  industry  in  the  House- 
hold. You  don't  seem  afraid  of  wearing  folks  out  with  v/ork, 
Cousin  Ann;  how  is  that?" 

"I  hope  you  understand  me,  Sophronia,"  said  Cousin  Ann; 
"I  do  not  look  on  work  as  an  end  in  itself,  neither  as  the  highest 
human  good,  and  in  the  word  zvork,  as  we  arc  now  talking,  I 
include  all  that  is  useful  to  ourselves  or  others;  we  are  given, 
as  I  take  it,  by  the  Lord  himself,  a  certain  time  to  live  in  the 
world,  and  a  certain  amount  of  good,  of  adding  to  the  sum  of 
human  happiness  and  worthiness,  which  we  can  do  in  that  time. 
The  good  done  is  tlic  end,  and  the  work  is  the  means  to  gain 
it;  we  cannot  do  this  good  without  activity,  and,  moreover,  the 
Lord  has  given  us  enough  to  do  to  fill  up  all  our  time.  Con- 
sidering all  this,  I  do  not  think  that  work  or  activity  is  other 
than  man's  natural  condition,  and  so  it  is  likely  to  be  a  healthful 
condition.  People  do  get  injured  by  severe  work,  but  if  you 
will  look  into  these  cases,  you  v/ill  see  that  the  injury-doing 
work  was  not  of  the  Lord's  ordering.  Persons  hurt  themselves 
by  t!ie  fierce  kind  of  wnrk  they  do  to  hurry-  up  a  fortune;  to 
grasp  too  soon  or  too  much  what  is  going  in  the  way  of  money. 


*! 


I  '4  rnll 


'Him 


r  til 


I  i 


i    ;i 


ill" 


i  I 


I 


II 


182 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


Other  people  wear  out  of  the  over-work  of  pride ;  they  must  hava 
ornaments,  fineries,  elaborate  dress,  or  furnishings,  to  out-do 
their  neighbors,  and  they  kill  themselves  for  that.  Other  people 
still  are  working  double  shares,  doing  the  work  which  some 
idle  member  of  their  families  has  left  undone;  the  conscientious 
and  busy  one  becoming  the  victim  of  some  sluggard's  selfishness: 
thus  the  mothers  of  lazy  daughters.  Again,  I  have  seen  folks 
who  wore  themselves  out  with  the  strain  of  fretting,  anxiety, 
repining  over  their  work,  grinding  their  minds  to  pieces  with  the 
irritation  of  unwillingness  or  useless  worry  to  do  more  or  better 
than  they  reasonably  can.  Still  other  victims  of  work  are  those 
who  work  without  any  system,  and  so  the  labor  which  would 
be  healthful  and  moderate  becomes  a  burden,  sinking  them  into 
insanity  or  the  grave.  Most  people  who  are  said  to  die  of  over- 
work die  of  misdirected  activity,  or  of  neglect  of  system  in  their 
work.  I  should  say  that  system  is  to  labor  what  oil  is  to  ma- 
chinery: without  it  all  goes  heavily  and  creaking,  and  wears  out 
speedily. 

"  Bustle,  Sophronia,  is  not  industry,  as  you  very  well  know ; 
people  flutter  and  bustle  about  like  a  hen  raising  diicks,  and 
then  complain  that  their  work  has  killed  them,  when  it  was  the 
fuss  that  was  the  killing  cause.  To  go  back  to  where  I  started : 
work  is  from  God,  and  he  has  told  us  how  to  work,  so  that  in 
working  we  shall  be  happy  and  strong  and  effective.  He  says 
first  for  each  day:  '  The  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work.' 
He  gave  the  night  for  sleep,  the  evening  hours  for  quiet  resting 
of  body  and  mind.  When  folks  toil  along  in  the  evenings,  after 
the  brutes  have  gone  to  rest,  somebody  is  usually  to  blame: 
vanity,  somebody's  selfishness,  the  avarice  of  employers  who 
will  not  give  living  wages  for  ten  daylight  hours'  toil ;  some 
check  has  been  offered  to  God's  beneficent  plan.  So  if  we  don't 
want  to  be  killed  hy  work,  let  us  take  a  fair  share  of  sleep ;  and 
let  us  rest,  or  have  some  very  easy  restful  occupation  for  evening 


INDUSTR  Y  m  THE  HOME. 


I8;i 


At  our  house  we  have  for  evenings  more  reading  than  anything 
else ;  the  children  spend  some  time  on  their  next  day's  lessons ; 
the  stocking-darning  is  evening  work,  and  so,  in  the  season,  is 
fruit-paring.  Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  when  we  are  making  mince- 
meat or  sausages,  the  work  runs  into  the  evening,  and  so  in 
killing  time ;  but  that  is  only  on  distant  occasions,  and  so  does 
no  damage.  The  next  rule  for  resting  which  the  Lord  gives  is 
a  weekly  rule :  '  Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it  holy. 
Thou  shalt  do  no  labor,  neither  thou,  nor  thy  son,  nor  thy 
daughter,  thy  man-servant,  nor  thy  maid-servant,  nor  thy  cattle, 
nor  thy  stranger  within  thy  gates.'  The  New  Testament  shows 
that  we  must  on  Sabbath  'assemble  ourselves  together'  for 
worship,  give  the  sick  due  aid,  and  bestow  needed  attention  on 
the  brutes,  and  give  ourselves  our  proper  food.  Outside  of  this 
we  are  to  rest;  and  I  promise  you,  Sophronia,  if  this  were 
observed,  no  elaborate  dressing,  no  big  dinners,  no  visits,  no 
amusements,  but  a  complete,  quiet,  family  resting,  the  church, 
the  proper  books,  a  nap  if  one  is  feeble  or  weary,  and  a  real  rest- 
day  from  sun  to  sun,  there  would  be  no  breaking  down  from 
overwork,  no  farmers'  wives  in  mad-houses." 

"  But  how  about  the  milk,  and  the  butter,  and  the  eggs,  Cousin 
Ann  ?  "  I  ventured  to  ask. 

"The  eggs  can  be  left  until  Monday  morning  from  Saturday 
evening.  The  milking  must  be  done  for  the  sake  of  the  animals ; 
but  if  milk  that  needs  churning  is  churned  on  Saturday  night,, 
the  rest,  if  the  dairy  is  properly  aired,  cleaned  and  shaded,  can 
be  left  until  Monday  morning.  Don't  tell  me  milk  must  be 
churned  or  carried  to  the  cheese-factory  on  Sunday ;  it  Is  clear  to 
my  mind  that  if  .people  were  compelled  to  give  to  the  Lord  the 
price  of  all  the  cheese  and  butter  made  on  His  day,  they'd  find 
means  of  keeping  the  milk  over  Sunday." 
"  Very  true,"  I  said,  "  but  go  on  with  your  views  about  rcstin"." 
"The  Lord   gave  to  the  people  of   Israel   several    national 


i!' 


1( 


m 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 

holidays  each  year,  requiring  old  and  young,  bond  and  free,  to 
share  them  joyously.  From  this  example  we  should  set  a  due 
value  on  certain  fixed  holidays,  and  not  ruthlessly  run  our  work- 
over  them,  but  observe  them  with  our  whole'  families,  in  some 
such  way  as  shall  give  the  most  change  to  the  current  of  our 
thoughts  and  cares.  We  have  New  Year's,  Washington's  Birth- 
day, Easter,  Fourth  of  July,  Thanksgiving,  Christmas.  As  the 
reach  between  Easter  and  the  Fourth,  and  from  that  on  to 
Thanksgiving,  is  pretty  long,  I  should  throw,  in  those  spaces,  a 
birthday  keeping,  a  picnic  day,  a  festival  of  some  kind,  and  these 
days  will  be  found  to  strengthen  family  ties,  freshen  health  and 
interest  in  work,  and  jive  a  new  spring  of  vitality  to  all  our 
labors.  People  who  live  in  this  way  will  not  die  of  overwork, 
Sophronia." 

Hester  had  come  in  quietly  during  the  conversation.  I  said 
to  her : 

"  Hester,  you  are  always  busy,  and  yet  always  fresh  and 
strong.  Aside  from  the  care  which  you  take  of  your  health, 
how  do  you  manage  your  work  so  that  you  shall  not  complain 
of  over-exhaustion  ?  " 

"  I  find,"  replied  Hester,  "  that  there  is  great  rest  in  mere 
^'hangc  of  labor.  It  is  not  so  much,  when  one  is  tired,  that  one 
deeds  to  drop  everything  and  lie  or  sit  with  folded  hands :  this 
is  sometimes  needful ;  but  there  is  true  and  effective  rest  in 
bringing  into  action  an  entirely  different  set  of  thoughts  and  of 
muscles.  Thus,  one  who  is  tired  with  sweeping,  scrubbing  or 
ironing,  can  rest  thoroughly  by  bathing  face  and  hands,  taking 
a  footstool  and  a  comfortable  chair,  and  taking  up  some  .sewing 
If  I  have  tired  my.self  by  .several  days  of  writing,  or  of  .study  o( 
languages,  or  by  the  pursuit  of  any  one  difficult  subject,  I  find 
that  I  rest  my  mind  and  body  by  an  entire  change  of  work  :  by 
taking  up  some  study  in  natural  sciences,  by  taking  a  few  days 
for  sewmg  or  social  duties,  or  by  doing  some  work  in  the  house. 


INDUSTRY  IN  THE  HOME. 


185 


iVith  this  in  view  I  arrange  that  house-cleaning,  preserving,  or 
preparing  tlie  clothing  for  a  change  of  seasons,  shall  come  after 
some  heavy  piece  of  brain  work,  when  I  need  the  rest  of  change." 
"  The  Lord  teaches  us  that  lesson,  I  think,"  said  Cousin  Ann, 
"  in  the  change  of  seasons  itself  This  change,  four  tin.es  in  a 
year,  necessarily  gives  us  a  change  in  our  labors— sowing,  hay- 
ing, harvesting,  fruit-picking,  fall-ploughing,  winter  work  of 
repairing  utensils  and  buildings,  follow  one  after  the  other,  and 
rest  us  by  the  change  which  they  afford.  In  the  house  this  is 
also  true." 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Hester,  "  that  more  diseases  arise  from 
indolence  than  from  overwork :  idleness  begets  vice,  and  vice 
fosters  disease.  One  reason  why,  taken  as  a  whole,  city  and 
town  girls  are  feebler  than  countiy  girls  is,  that  they  have  less  to 
do;  they  idle  about  and  fix  their  tastes  on  luxury  and  folly  and 
amusements ;  their  minds  and  bodies  lose  all  .spring  and  vigor. 
Wasting  their  lives  in  this  wretched  way,  girls  become  extrava- 
gant and  expensive  in  their  wants,  and  weak  in  muscle,  ncr\'es 
and  morals ;  young  men  become  foppish,  dishonest  and  intem- 
perate. Parents,  guardians  and  teachers  should  wake  up  to  the 
dangers  of  this  idleness,  which  hes  at  the  root  of  much  mania, 
hysteria  and  crime.  This  laziness  is  creating  for  us  in  the  cities 
a  generation  of  paupers  and  hospital  patients;  the  good-hearted, 
pretty,  naturally  bright  girl  becomes  the  vapid,  morbid,  chronic 
invalid.  Not  an  invalid  by  dispensation  of  Providence,  but  the 
invalid  ofher  own  making;  and  a  hardy  and  more  courageous 
race  will  take  the  place  of  these  pining  or  vicious  beings.  I 
feel  awake  on  this  subject  because  I  have  studied  it  carefully 
lately,  while  preparing  an  article  upon  it  for  press." 

"  You  could  not  choose  a  better  or  more  useful  theme,"  said 
Cousin  Ann.  "  But  I  declare,  Sophronia,  it  is  almost'  three 
o'clock!  I  often  say  I  must  keep  away  from  your  house,  for  no 
sooner  do  I  get  here,  than  you  start  me  off  on  some  subject 


« 


11 


>i 


% 


''^t 


'  ;-'  JFfT 


I   ! 


186 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


which  I  am  interested  in,  and  then,  as  I  have  to-day,  I  spend  tht 
whole  morning  doing — " 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  say  '  nothing,'  Cousin  Ann,  for  you  said 
yourself,  that  one  was  always  working  well  when  doing  any- 
thing for  the  benefit  of  others,  and  to-day  you  have  been  very 
greatly  benefiting  me." 

Since  this  day's  conversations,  I  have  made  myself  quite  ^ 
missionary  in  behalf  of  Household  Industry.  The  more  I  think- 
of  the  subject  the  more  important  does  it  appear  to  me.  It  has 
been  well  said  that  "  It  is  what  is  saved,  not  what  is  made, 
which  constitutes  national  as  well  as  individual  wealth."  Every 
one  will  allow  that  labor  is  a  source  of  wealth;  but  one  does 
not  so  quickly  see  how  the  individual  labors  of  each  member  of 
a  family  will  create  that  saving,  which  results  in  comfortable 
circumstances,  if  not  in  affluence.  But  look  at  this  a  moment: 
a  daughter  in  a  family  is  brought  up  in  habits  of  industry  and 
not  in  idleness ;  industry  establishes  her  own  health,  and  her 
aid  keeps  her  mother  from  being  worked  into  a  fit  of  sickness, 
or  a  state  of  confirmed  ill-health  :  what  a  saving  is  here  at  once 
in  the  mere  matters  of  medicines,  nursing  and  doctor's  bills ! 
In  a  family  of  industrious  da  ghters,  skilled  in  the  use  of  the 
needle,  how  much  longer  do  clothes  last,  than  where  nobody 
has  energy  to  repair,  or  make  over,  or  neatly  mend,  and  clothes 
fall  to  pieces  to  be  replaced  by  new  ones  !  The  delicate  taste, 
the  interested,  thoughtful  industry  of  the  family,  knowing  each 
one's  needs,  will  go  twice  as  far  as  the  hired  labor  of  the  seam- 
stress. And  here  I  feel  like  going  off  on  the  word  seamstress^ 
to  protest  against  the  starvation-wages  paid  to  seamstresses  by 
the  clothing-warehouse  owners ;  and  I  would  entreat  ladies 
not  to  try  to  save,  or  to  escape  care  by  purchasing  ready-made 
dresses  and  undergarments,  every  one  of  which  may  be  at  the 
price  of  blood — as  was  to  David  the  water  of  the  well  of 
liethlehem,  when  he  would  not  drink.     No,  my  dear  sisters,  iJ 


INDUSTRY  IN  THE  HOME. 


187 


you  need  to  hire  your  clothes  made,  or  if  you  prefer  it,  or  can 
afford  it,  have  the  seamstress  in  the  house ;  there  give  her  a 
warm,  sunny  sewing-room ;  if  she  stays  at  night,  give  her  a  nice 
bed-chamber,  give  her  three  good  meals  a  day,  and  don't 
require  her  to  sew  on  in  the  evening,  just  because  she  is  on 
hand,  and  will  do  it  rather  than  lose  your  patronage. 

Don't  grind  the  faces  of  the  poor,  my  dear  women.     Fortune 
was  represented  formerly  with  a  %vhcd,  and  time  has  a  way  of 
bringing  its  revenges.     Who  can  tell  whether  you,  or  your 
child,  or   grandchild  may  be  toiling   for  bread   at   a   needle's 
point?     In  families  where  all  arc  reasonably  and  cheerfully  busy, 
there  is  not  felt  this  passion  for  driving  someone;  as  Cousin 
Ann  said:  "The  over-work  of  the  one  is  usually  the  satisfaction 
offered  for  the  laziness  of  several."     A  thrifty  country  lady  once 
told  me  her  method  of  getting  her  sewing  done  for  a  large  fam- 
ily:  she  was  not  very  well-to-do,  and  to  save  money  was  a 
necessity  to  her.     She  found  in  the  city  a  seamstress,  who,  with 
hard  labor  for  nine  months  in  the  year,  barely  managed  to  keep 
the  wolf  from   the   door,  while   she   wore    herself  out.     This 
woman  was  engaged  by  the  farmer's  wife  for  the  three  warm 
months.     The  wages  were  low,  but  she  had  first-rate  country 
living,  change  of  air,  a  fresh,  pleasant  room,  kind  society,  her 
evenings  and  Sabbaths  to  herself     It  was  a  blessed  rest,  and 
renewed  her  strength  and  courage  for  the  year.     She  went  home 
laden  with  gifts  of  butter,  eggs,  dried  fruit,  meat— a  stock  to 
help  her  little  housekeeping  on  for  a  long  while  to  come. 

I  am  glad  that  Mary  Watkins  is  bringing  her  little  girl  up  in 
the  same  industrious  way  in  which  she  was  herself  trained.  I 
was  there  the  other  day,  and  the  little  thing,  seated  in  her  small 
rocking-chair  by  her  mother's  side,  was  sewing  carpet-rags: 
she  is  scarcely  five ;  and  this,  and  a  little  hemming  on  coarse 
towels,  is  her  first  essay  at  sewing.  Mary's  boy,  who  is  about 
three  and  a  half,  was  shelling  seed-peas,  and  I  was  amused  at 


IT 

! 

! 

1 

\ 

1 

; 

1 

,&i 

1 

H 

\ 

1 

H 

TUt    COMPLETE  HOME. 


<jbc  5^3)'  Mary  had  taken  to  keep  hirr  from  making  a  litter  with 
the  work.  She  had  set  him  in  a  vvaslitub,  and  he  shelled  the 
peas  into  the  tub  where  he  was.  On  one  side  his  tub  stood  a 
large  basket  with  the  dried  pea-pods,  and  the  empty  husks  he 
put  into  a  basket  on  the  other  side.  Mary  said  that  each  of  the 
children  had  thus  a  half  hour's  work  in  the  afternoon,  and  in  the 
morning  they  each  had  half  an  hour  with  their  lessons.  Besides 
this,  while  the  breakfast  was  being  cleared  away,  Jimmy  brought 
in  three  baskets  of  chips  and  small  wood,  and  Nettie  wiped  the 
spoons  and  tea-cups  for  her  mother.  Mary  said  that  the  chil- 
dren were  much  better  natured,  enjoyed  their  play  better,  and 
were  more  careful  and  less  destructive  for  this  little  responsibil- 
ity of  having  something  to  do  ;  and  she  added,  with  pride,  that 
it  was  quite  surprising  how  handy  and  careful  Nettie  was.  She 
was  likely  to  prove  an  excellent  little  housewife,  and  Jimmy 
was  very  fond  of  being  useful  also. 

Helen  seems  less  inclined  to  instruct  her  children  in  being 
useful.  She  pleads  that  she  has  no  time  to  teach  them  ;  that  she 
has  no  patience  to  attend  to  their  lessons ;  that  Belle  will  pick  up 
sewing  some  time,  she  supposes ;  that  it  is  much  easier  to  do 
things  herself  than  worry  with  children's  work,  and  that  in  her 
house  about  one  person's  time  is  needed  to  repair  the  mischief 
of  Master  Tom. 

"Ah,  Helen!"  I  cried,  "  the  idle  child  is  the  mischievous  child; 
it  would  take  far  less  time  and  patience  to  teach  Tom  usciui 
work  than  to  let  him  turn  his  energies  on  mischief" 

"  But  what  on  earth  can  Tom  do  ?  "  asked  Helen. 

"  Hannah  is  kind ;  let  him  go  to  the  kitchen,  and  string  beans 
and  sk.'  peas;  let  him  learn  to  rub  the  knives;  let  him  be 
charged  w  '^  s\*'r"ping  the  back  yard  each  day;  let  him  black 
bis  father";,  s       s  ;:'nd  ids  own." 

"Gooc'nfc-si  s.iid  Helen,  "  "'e  would  black  himself  and  the 
kitchen  floor  a  dtal  more  than  the  shoes!  " 


m 


INDUSTi:  V  /N  TI/£  HOME. 


189 


"  Helen,  many  a  city  youngster  of  his  age  makes  his  own 
living  by  boot-blacking.     Let  him  take  the  boots  to  the  shed, 
tie  a  kitchen-apron  around  his  neck,  and  let  Hannah  show  him 
how,  once  or  twice,  and  be  a  judge  when  his  work  is  properly 
finished.     Anyililiig  is  better  than  rampant,  destructive  idleness. 
Get  hiin  a  f,  w  tools  and  some  wood,  and  let  him  make  flower- 
fiames  and  little  stools  or  boxes:  find  some  use  for  his  manu- 
factures.    Then  do    not  give   way   to    indolence,  and    neglect 
teaching  him  to  read,  write  and  cipher.     Happy  the  child  wliose 
mother  is  his  first  teacher!     As  for  Belle,  Helen,  don't  dream 
she  will  grow  into  industry  without  being  taught  it.     You  have 
complained  heartily  of  your  over-indulgent  grandmother,  who 
did  not  teach  you  to  sew,  to  keep  house,  to  systematize  your 
work :  you  suffer  from  that  fatal  neglect   every  day  of  youf 
life;    and   yv.t   you    dare    to    pass   such  a  legacy  on    to   your 
daughter.     Consider  that  she  may  live  to  be  a  wife  and  mother, 
and  that  as  you  train  her,  you  make  or  mar  a  future  House- 
hold, and  become  a  good   angel  or  an  evil   genius  to   your 
descendants." 

"But,  aunt,"  argued  Helen,  "some  folks  grow  into  these 
things  without  ever  being  tauglit.  Look  at  Hester:  she  taught 
herself  to  keep  house  after  she  had  grown  up!" 

"  Hester  happens  to  be  a  genius,  and  a  person  of  uncommon 
conscientiousness,  Helen,"  I  replied;  "she  will  not  neglect  any 
work,  agreeable  or  othcrwi.se,  which  it  falls  to  her  lot  to  do. 
The  rule  is,  however,  that  we  do  not  learn  useful  things  by 
intuition,  but  we  must  be  taught  them.  When  one  assumes  a 
mother's  responsibilities  one  owes  it  to  her  children  to  arm 
them  against  want  and  helplessness,  by  teaching  them  to  be  self- 
reliant  and  industrious.  You  remember  it  was  among  the  laws 
of  the  Jews  that  a  father  should  have  his  son  circumcised,  teach 
him  the  law  and  teach  him  a  trade;  even  the  wealthiest  tauf^ht 
their  sons  a  trade  to  secure  them  against  possible  want.    Ti 


I  '.|„ 


"^1 


si'lM" 

WHHI 

i. .    t-t.' 
i '  ■  1 : 

ill 

9 

«! 


190  THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 

Paul  made  tents.  While  the  son  must  be  taught  some  business 
of  life,  there  is  one  business  which  sliould  ahvays  be  taught  a 
daughter — the  business  of  housekeeping,  in  all  its  departments. 
That  sensible  people,  the  Germans,  do  not  neglect,  as  do  we, 
this  training  in  housekeeping;  the  wealthiest  and  the  highest  in 
rank  take  a  pride  in  practically  knowing  all  about  it.  This  is 
not  to  be  learned  in  a  few  theoretical  lessons;  it  can  be  well 
acquired  only  by  giving  children  from  their  earliest  years  their 
share  of  home  work." 

It  is  hard  to  persuade  Helen  to  do  even  a  plain  duty  of 
this   kind,   because    she    is  so    ignorant   of  work    herself,  and 
naturally  so   indolent.     .1   should  think    her   losses,  vexations, 
trials    and   mortifications    from    having   as   a  girl    been    habit- 
uated to  indolence,  and  so  knowing  nothing  of  her  duties  as 
head  of  a   household,  would  stir  her   up  to   have    Belle  well 
taught.     Mark  and   Miriam   had  far  less  cash  capital  to  begin 
life   on    than    Frank   and    Helen,  but   the  industry  and    good 
judgment  of  Mark  have  been  so  seconded  by  Miriam's  skill, 
taste,  economy  and    industry  at   home,    that  I  find   they   are 
not  only  laying  up  more  money  than    Frank,  but  are  living 
much  more  handsomely.     There,  too,  were  Reuben  and  Cousin 
Ann:  all  they  had  to  set  out  with  was  a  run-down  and  heavily- 
mortgaged   farm,  but   by  the   united   effort  and    industry  and 
economy  of  the  whole  family,  now  they  own  the  finest  farm  in 
the  county;  the  two  elder  sons  own  a  farm  on  each  side  their 
parents;    Sarah,  who    is    next   year  to   be    married   to   young 
VVinton,  will  be  very  handsomely  portioned;  they  have  plenty 
for  hospitality;   they   arc   liberal   in    giving;    it   should   have 
been  written  on  their  doorway:  'Secst  thou  a  man   diligent  in 
business,  he  shall  stand  before  kings.'     Yes,  my  idea  of  a  family 
is  a  family  of  cheerful,  useful  activity;   a  hive  of  honey-bees; 
not  one  or  two  workers — a  tired  father,  a  worn-out  mother,  an 
enslaved  servant  or  two — and  all  the  rest  drones. 


•^'lijiL 


vti 


IXDUST/^y  IN   THE  HOME. 


191 


What  a  spectacle  is  this  Household  at  Work  !  The  mother 
amply  aided;  all  things  in  order;  work  done  beautifully  and 
systematically;  intelligence  reigning;  time  is  here  for  books  and 
for  art,  and  for  beauty,  and  social  life,  because  all  have  labored 
willingly;  it  is  not  alone  the  mother's  hands  which  toiled,  while 
daughters  lay  in  bed,  but  all  these  arc  virtuous  women  whose 
price  is  above  ruDies. 


if'i'f 


iifif' 


(I  iJ 


♦I 


CIIAFIKR   VIII. 

I.ITMUATUKK    IX    TIIK    IIOMR 
AUNT   SOniKONIA's    IDEAS   OI"    I500KS   AND   READING. 

-jJj(!^'T  has  IdHfj  bi'i'ii  my  opinion  that  one  of  the  chief  ways  of 
niakinj4'  a  home  Iiappy,  thriving  and  useful  in  its  in- 
fluence, is  to  supply  it  well  with  books  and  papers. 
V2>  Ilavin^j;  carefully  observed  and  contrasted  homes  well 
furnished  witli  rculin;.;  matter,  and  homes  where  literature  is 
unknown,  1  find  that  intelli;^enco,  family  affection,  thrift,  economy, 
business  habits,  and  joyous  home-loving  mark  the  homes  with 
books ;  ami  bickering,  wastefulness,  general  ignorance  and  idle 
pleasure-seeking,  characterize  the  others.  A  home  without  books 
argues  at  once  a  lack  of  educative  influences;  it  reduces  its 
members  to  find  the  entertainment  and  interest,  which  they  7C'i7/ 
i)icvit(i!>!\>  seek,  away  from  home  in  silly  gossip,  frequently 
resulting  in  mischief,  in  games  which  are  often  the  beginning  of 
quarrelling  and  cheating,  in  rudeness  and  thriftlessness,  all  far 
more  expensive  tlian  a  large  library  of  books.  Such  a  Home 
without  reading  is  also  shut  off  from  a  stream  of  new  and  useful 
information  constantly  supplied  by  daily  and  weekly  papers.  It 
is  not  merely  that  these  papers  contain  the  current  affairs  of  the 
day,  the  news  of  church,  and  of  politics,  and  foreign  affairs,  and 
the  market  reports — ail  valuable,  and  witliout  wliicii  a  man  can 
hardly  be  a  reasonable  citi/.en  or  a  decent  manager  of  his  own 
business — but  these  papers  contain  valuable  information  on 
subjects  of  healtli,  of  firm-work,  of  fruit-culture,  of  household- 
work,  cooking,  cleaning,  the  ciro  of  animals ;  any  one  item  of 
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which  might  prove  on  occasion  worth  the  year's  price  of  a  paper. 
Cousin  Reuben  takes  a  number  of  newspapers.     He  remarked 
to  me  once,  that  if  he  had  started  on  his  farm  without  any 
knowledge  or  experience  of  work,  or  of  arranging  In's  house  so 
as  to  keep  it  in  a  sound,  healthful  condition,  he  might  yet  by  a 
diligent  study  of  his  papers,  applying  to  them  his  own  judgment, 
have  learned  how  to  manage  all  his  affairs  in  a  satisfactory 
manner.     He  added:  "I've  paid  out  hundreds  of  dollars  in  my 
time  for  my  newspapers,  for  I  am  not  such  a  sneak  as  to  try  ancf 
steal  my  information  from  the  editors.     I  pay  in  advance,  and  if 
i  vc  paid  a  few  hundreds  out,  I've  taken  a  good  many  hundreds 
in  by  the  use  of  them.     My  boys  never  had  to  hang  around  a 
store,  or  a  grog-shop,  or  a  bar-room  to  learn  what  was-^going  on 
in  the  world;  consequently  they  never  learned  to  drink  grog 
nor  to  waste  their  time.     Many  is  the  hint  we've  got  in  stock- 
raising,  in  fruit  and  vegetable  culture,  and  many  is  the  poor 
bargain  we've  been  saved  from   making,  by  reading  a  good, 
respectable,  law-upholding,  honest-dealing  paper.    We  took  caro 
as  to  the  quality  of  our  papers.     We  took  our  church  papers, 
too,  and  then  we  knew  what  was  being  done  by  the  church,  and 
where  we'd  better  give  when  we  had  a  little  to  spare;  and  our 
minister  didn't  have  to  talk  himself  hoarse  e.vplaining  things 
which  it  was  our  business  to  know;  we  enjoyed  the  sermons 
more,  and  felt  ourselves  .stirred  up  and  more  a  part  of  the  church 
for  reading  all  about  it ;  arid  the  children  had  Sunday  reading, 
and  did  not  find  the  Sabbath  a  weariness." 

When  I  go  into  Mrs.  Winton's  of  an  evening,  I  usually  find 
the  family  reading.  They  have  the  magazines  of  the  month, 
the  new  books  on  the  table.  If  Mr.  Winton  and  the  two  sons 
arc  free  from  business  cares  in  the  evenings,  there  is  no 
wondering  what  to  do:  they  know  where  will  be  a  conifortablo 
room,  a  good  light,  quiet,  beauty  of  surroundings,  and  occupa. 

tion  for  the  mind ;  the  family-room  is  a  scene  of  comfort,  of 
18 


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promise.  How  can  these  young  folks  help  being  honorable  and 
useful  ?  They  are  daily  filling  their  minds  with  things  beautiful, 
true,  practical ;  they  have  no  waste  hours  for  Satan  to  fill  with 
mischief,  no  vacant  brains  to  be  provoked  to  evil  deeds. 

I   was  at  Cousin  Ann's  son's  farm  one  day,  and  Reed  was 
walking  about  with  me  showing  his  territories;  and,  indeed, 
they  were   so  well   kept  that  they  were  a  treat  to  see,     The 
cattle  all  looked  like  prize  cattle.     He  had  names  for  them  all ; 
and  one  handsome  young  heifer  he  called  "  I^ooks,"  and  a  big 
sheep  "  Maga,"  which  he  informed  me  was  "  short  for  maga- 
zines," and  a  family  of  black  Spanish  hens  ran  to  the  call  of 
"Papers!"     I  asked  what  in  the  world   it  all  meant.     He  told 
me  that  when  he  married,  his  mother  gave  him  a  pair  of  black 
Spanish  fowls,  and  told  him  to  let  their  produce  keep  him  in 
papas.     He  accordingly  called  them  "papers"  for  fun,  and  he 
found  that   the   eggs    and    chickens  would  supply  him   hand- 
somely with  papers.     When  the  supply  exceeded  the  demand 
he  would  lay  the  surplus  up  to  begin  a  fund  for  providing  his 
children  with  reading.     His  wife  had  proposed  that  the  heifer 
should  be  dedicated  to  the  cause  of  a  library;  .so  he,  after  sub- 
tracting the  cost  of  the  animal's  keep,  meant  to  use  her  pro- 
duce in  buy'ng  books.     Tlic  sheep  had  been  a  pet  lamb  given 
to  his  wife  by  her  sister,  and  .she,  having  paid  her  board,  secured 
them  a  magazine  or  so. 

"  Well,  well.  Reed !  "  I  cried ;  "  that  is  a  pretty  sharp  idea, 
and  worthy  of  your  mother's  son." 

"  Why,  Aunt  Sophronia,"  replied  Rccd,  "  we  were  brought 
up  on  books,  and  we  could  not  live  without  them.  I  expect  to 
make  a  decent  fortune  here,  but  I  got  my  first  notions  of  the 
value  and  care  of  stock  from  books  and  papers.  I  noticed  all 
that  I  found  on  that  theme  :  it  interested  me ;  I  carried  oul 
many  suggestions  and  found  them  valuable.  Wc  boys  never 
wanted  to  run  off  in  the  evenings  :  wc  got  in  hungry  and  tired; 


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LITERATURE  IN   THE  HOME  .r,, 

v^'c  found  all  neat,  a  good   meal,  a  comfortable  room,  with  a 
.gilt  on  a  table  where  our  books  were.     We  made  ourselves 
t.dy,  had  our  supper,  and  saw  no  attraction  in  village  corners 
or  m  smoky  saloons:  for  here  was  room,  and  company,  a  good 
story,  a  book  of  travels,  books  which   our  parents   bought   us 
w,th  much  self-denial,  books  which  we  borrowed,  books  from 
the  school  library,  books  bought  out  of  our  own  earnings      I 
remember  we  boys  clubbed  our  savings  one  fall,  and  bought 
Kanes  Arctic  Expedition  '  for  winter  reading.     We  had  out 
our  maps;  we  all  read  the  book,  parents  and  all;  we  talked  of 
.tat  the  table;  every  cold  snap  made  it  more  vivid  to  us-  we 
got  out  our  geographies;  we  borrowed  all  we  could  get  on'  the 
subject  of  the   North   Seas.     What  paltry  ta^•ern  would   have 
tempted    us    in    comparison    with    those    Northern    wonders? 
VVh.chever  one  knew  the  n.ost  about  it  was  to  own  the  book- 
but  we  all  knew  it  so  thoroughly  that  father  could  not  decide' 
between   us,  and  we  gave  it  to  mother  for  her  birthday.     But 
what  odds,  all  that  was  our  mother's  was  ours  '  " 

"I  remember."  I  .said,  "you  children  never  destroyed  your 
books.     And  what  scrap-books  you  used  to  make!  " 

"  Yes.  indeed,  we  were  taught  to  r,s/>ca  a  book.  Fatlicr  told 
us  marvels  of  times  before  printing  and  of  costly  books  We 
were  trained  to  take  care  even  of  our  toy  books,  to  hand  them 
down  for  the  happiness  of  our  juniors;  and  as  for  the  scrap- 
books,  mother  thought  children  ought  to  grow  up  with  books 
to  take  naturally  to  loving  them,  so  we  cut  out  sheets  of  old 
mushn  and  pasted  pictures  and  letters  on  them,  indestructible 
books  for  the  babies-why  my  little  year-old  has  one  of  them 
now  I 

Well,  that  as  I  consider  it  is  the  secret  of  Cousin  Ann's  sue 

cess.     She  always  began  at  the  beginning,  and  fluthfuily  built 

•'P  from  that.     She  always  felt  that  she  was  training  her  chil- 

ron  for  the  A/,,;...  and  that  it  did  „,ake  a  deal  of  difference  what 

mcy  did  when  they  were  little. 


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This  is  emphatically  an  Age  of  Books.      Children  will  see  a 
deal  of  them  as  they  go  on  in  life.     If  you  do  not  teach  them  to 
choose  and  love  good  books,  they  will  skim  over  bad  ones  just 
enough  to  gei  poisoned  by  them.     I  think  children  should  be 
taught  to  love  books.     First,  by  always   seeing   them  around 
them,  and  by  owning  them  from  their  earliest  years.     Second, 
by  being  taught  to  respect  them  and  take  good  care  of  them  : 
a  little  child  should  not  be  permitted  to  destroy  books.     For 
very  little  children,  indestructible  cloth  books,  bought  or  home- 
made, are  the  best  thing  that  they  can   have.     Third,  they 
should  be  taught  to  love  books  and  use  them,  by  giving  them 
books  which  they  can  enjoy— child's  books,  toy  books,  so  they 
are  pure  and  genial  in  matter  and  manner.     We  should  sympa 
thizc  with  the  child's  love  of  the  impossible,  of  the  marvellous, 
the  amusing.      "  Fairy  Tales,"  and  "  Mother  Goose,"  the  dear 
old  toy  books  of  "  Dame  Crumb,"  and  "  Mother  Hubbard,"  and 
"Jack,  the  Giant-Killcr,"  and  "  Red  Riding  Hood,"  are  a  part 
of  the  blissful  inheritance  of  childhood. 

With  what  tender  love  does  Hugh  Miller  in  his  "  Schools  and 
Schoolmasters"  speak  of  his  first  library,  kept  in  a  "  nine-inch 
square  birch-bark  box."     Here  he  had  "Aladdin  ;  or.  The  Won- 
derful I^amp,"  "  Sinbad,  the  Sailor,"  "  Jack  and  the  Bean-Stalk," 
"  Beauty  and  the  Beast."     "  And  by  these  I  passed  on,  without 
being  conscious  of  break  or  line  of  division,  to  books  on  which 
the  learned  are  content  to  write  commentaries  and  dis.scrtations, 
but  which  I  found  to  be  quite  as  nice  children's  books  as  any 
others."     So  Dickens  adds  his  testimony  in  his  "  Recollections 
of  My  Christmas-Tree:  "  "Jack  Beanstalk-how  noble,  with  his 
.sword  of  sharpness  and  his   shoes  of  .swiftness!     Little    Red 
Riding  Hood  comes  to  me  one  Christmas-Eve  to  give  me  infor> 
mation  of  the  cruelty  and  treachery  of  that  dissembling  Wolf 
which  ate  her   Gi^ndmother!     She  was  my  first-love.     Hush! 
No»K  not  Robin  Hood,  not  Valentine,  not  the  Yellow  Dwarf:  I 


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have  passed  him  and  all  Mother  Bunch's  wonders  without  men- 
tion; but  an  Eastern  King,  with  glittering  scimitar  and  turban. 
It  is  the  setting  in  of  the  bright  'Arabian  Nights.'  Oh,  now  all 
common  things  become  uncommon  and  enchanted  to  me!  " 

Children  cannot  always  be  reading  what  we  arc  pleased  to 
call  useful  books.  They  have  their  place,  but  they  are  a  part,  and 
not  the  whole.  And  how  do  we  know  that  these  crude  and 
embryonic  books  do  not  have  their  own  great  ure  and  fitness, 
assimilating  with  the  child's  crude  and  embryonic  powers? 
Children  should  have  Sabbath  books.  The  Bible  should  have  its 
stories  pointed  out  for  their  reading.  Give  the  young  child  the 
Bible :  he  stumbles  on  the  tenth  chapter  of  Genesis,  invaluable 
to  Science ;  upon  a  Psalm  which,  to  the  old  tried  heart,  is  as 
water  from  Bethlehem's  Well,  or  on  marvellous  Hebrews,  or 
knotty  Romans,  or  the  genealogical  chapters  in  Chronicles,  and 
he  says  in  his  heart  that  it  is  a  terribly  dull,  hard  book;  and 
how  can  you  expect  him  to  like  it?  How  can  you,  indeed? 
Why  did  you  not  give  him  that  marvel  tale  of  Samson,  or  that 
.sweet  romance  of  Ruth,  or  the  wonder-book  of  Jonah  on  the 
sea,  or  the  thrilling  episodes  in  the  life  of  Daniel,  or  the  pathetic 
history  of  Joseph,  or,  best  of  all,  the  story  of  a  Babe  in  a 
manger?  He  had  a  right  to  know  what  God  put  there /^r  him; 
to  read  of  the  dead  girl  raised  to  life,  and  the  young  man 
tilting  upon  his  bier,  or  the  prodigal  who  came  to  himself. 

There  is  no  child  who  will  not  hungrily  take  to  "  Pilgrims' 
Progress."  Buy  a  handsome  copy,  with  plenty  of  pictures  of 
Pilgrim  armed,  of  the  giants,  of  great  ApoUyon  "  straddling  quite 
over  the  way,"  of  lions,  of  the  four  boys,  of  Captain  Greathcart 
slaying  robbers.  Keep  this  glorious  book  for  Sundays,  and 
instead  of  a  fretting  after  "  to-morrow,"  and  a  restlessness  and 
riot,  the  child  will  wish  two  Sundays  came  in  a  week.  So  there 
is  the  stor>'  of  the  Holy  War  to  captivate  the  heart  o.'i  old  or 
young.     Plenty  of  good  Sunday  reading  can   and   should  be 


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found;  stories  of  missionary  heroism,  tales  of  Huguenot,  Cov© 
nanter  and  Waldensian,  lives  well  told  of  the  champions  of  Chris- 
tendom, of  Luther,  full  of  force  and  fire,  of  Knox,  unknown  to 
fear,  of  zealous  Calvin  and  tender  Melancthon.  Plenty  is  there 
of  attractive  and  worthy,  without  being  reduced  to  buy  the 
moral  dish-water  trash,  about  good  boys  who  stole  apples,  oi 
maidens  who  wind  off  yards  of  moral  sentiments,  and  ena  by 
making  a  splendid  marriage. 

As  the  children  grow  older  the  toy-books  yield  to  histories, 
travels,  explorations,  and  the  fairy  tales  of  science.  Give  them 
books  on  insects,  on  birds,  on  flowers,  on  shells,  and  they  will 
learn  to  keep  their  eyes  open,  and  compare  what  they  sec  with 
what  they  read.  This  reminds  me  of  Helen's  little  Tom.  She 
sent  him  to  school  to  keep  him  out  of  mischief,  and  he  learned 
to  read.  He  might  possibly  have  fallen  into  a  ruinous  line  of 
dime  novels  and  flash  papers,  had  not  Hester  made  up  her  mind 
that  Tom  had  a  taste  for  natural  sciences.  To  her  father's 
private  horror,  she  took  Tom  home  with  her  for  a  week,  and 
introduced  him  to  the  museum,  and  then  as  he  wanted  a  museum, 
and  said  his  three  younger  sisters  tore  up  all  his  things,  Hester 
presented  him  with  a  mite  of  a  room  behind  her  laundry,  where 
he  was  to  put  up  shelves  and  make  a  museum.  Mr.  Nugent 
took  Tom  out  on  some  of  his  long  tramps,  made  in  connection 
with  his  scientific  writing,  and  Tom  astounded  his  father  with  a 
demand  for  "  money  to  buy  books  about  bugs  and  things." 
Frank,  glad  to  have  the  child  interested,  gave  him  the  money  to 
lay  out  under  Hester's  supervision,  and  I  really  believe  the 
youngster's  newly  acquired  fondness  for  natural  science  will  be 
the  making  of  him.  We  all  of  us  save  for  him  any  interesting 
fact  or  anecdote  connected  with  the  theme  which  he  is  pursuing, 
How  many  boys  there  are  who  could  be  brought  off  the  streets, 
and  out  of  demoralizing  society  and  vicious  reading,  by  having 
their  minds  turned  to  some  subject  of  interest,  having  books 


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suited  to  some  taste  which  they  develop,  and  finding  that  their 
own  interests  and  ideas  are  worthy  of  the  attention  of  grown 
people! 

This  last  winter  we  had  in  our  village  a  Literary  Society,  com- 
(X)scd  of  young  and  old  from  the  village  and  county  round. 
The  Wintons,  the  Burrs,  my  three  nieces,  Cousin  Ann's  two 
married  sons  and  their  wives,  Sarah,  Mary  Watkins  and  her 
husband,  and  others.  It  was  very  enjoyable;  we  read;  we  talked 
on  subjects  started  by  our  reading;  we  purchased  a  few  volumes 
in  partnership;  we  took  a  magazine;  we  had  essays  on  important 
themes.     One  of  these  was  by  Hester,  on  the  subject  of — 

WHAT  TO   READ. 

Of  all  the  influences  about  us  in  the  present  age,  perhaps  none  is  so 
largely  educative  as  that  of  reading:  the  press  even  distances  the  pul- 
pit in  its  control  over  the  minds  of  mer  ;  the  paper  and  the  pamplilet 
go  where  tlie  pastor  and  preacher  cannot  find  their  way.  At  every 
street  corner,  and  a  dozen  times  along  every  block  of  houses,  the 
written  word  appears  to  the  eye.  The  child  from  its  cradle  is  su;- 
rounded  with  some  kind  of  literature.  Our  education,  whether  we 
will  or  not,  goes  on  with  all  the  growing  years,  and  is  in  theui  cliiclly 
remitted  to  ourselves.  And  we  sliall  find  when  all  the  years  are  toI4, 
that  nothing  has  so  moulded  and  fashioned  our  inner  lives — so  made 
us  what  in  the  end  we  shall  be — as  reading. 

Read  we  must  and  will ;  it  is  the  passion  of  the  j^resent  age.  And 
here  come  up  certain  (piestions:  What  to  read?  What  not  to  read? 
When  to  read?  How  to  read?  "Why,  we  all  know  that!"  say 
Thomas  and  Bertha.  Dearly  beloved,  I  doubt  it;  it  is  also  even  to 
be  doubted  whether  your  respected  parents  have  considered  it  a  grand 
part  of  their  duty  to  give  you  careful  instruction  on  these  points. 

"Read,  Thomas,  or  you  will  be  considered  a  fool,"  says  father. 
"Bertha,  \\\\y  do  you  read  such  trash?"  say.;  mother.  Or,  when 
Tiiomas  and  Bertha  are  fourteen  or  fifteen,  the  parents  take  the  matter 
m  hand,  and  begin  to  form  the  young  people's  taste.  Alas  !  they  have 
seen  and  read  books  now  for  years,  and  their  taste  is  pretty  wclb 
formed,  or  deformed^  already. 

What  to  read  ?  We  say  nothing  now  of  the  Insjiired  Book— but 
answer:  Let  the  first  reading  he  of  History  ;  this  hiys  in  the  mind  a 
holid  foundation  of  thinking,  judging,  and  comparing;  history  belongs 


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to  the  domain  of  the  true,  and  as  truth  is  fundamental  to  all  that  ii 
good  and  worthy  of  possessing,  liistory  should  be  read,  not  merely 
until  the  mind  is  in  possession  of  certain  facts,  but  until  it  has  gained 
a  bent  for  sound  reading.  A  young  child,  given  histoiic  reading  from 
its  first  acquaintance  with  books,  will  always  love  that  reading,  and 
(ieveloj)  a  literary  taste  :  those  wiiosc  taste  has  been  vitiated  so  that 
they  "  dislike  history,"  can  restore  the  natural  taste  for  the  true  by  \ 
faitliful  course  of  twelve  months'  historic  reading. 

Next  after  history,  j'ou  should  read  Biography.  You  have  read  of 
great  events,  and  mighty  world-changes :  read  now  of  their  actors. 
Happy  the  child  to  whom  somewise  parent  has  given  "Plutarch's 
Lives!"  Read  the  lives  of  heroes,  literati,  philosophers,  jihilan- 
thropists,  those  masters  of  the  world,  who  have  made  history  by  tlie 
out-living  of  their  individualities. 

And  now  when  you  read  of  the  vicissitudes  of  the  world,  and  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  world,  you  need  to  know  much  of  tiie  world 
itself.  Its  zones  and  its  productions,  its  tempests,  its  harvests,  its 
convulsions,  its  sterility,  have  done  much  to  make  or  mar  the  fortunes 
of  its  children.  Read  travels.  Oh,  glorious  possibilities  ope. 't.i  to  us 
in  books  of  travel !  We  follow  Kane  into  Northern  seas  ;  wo  rush 
with  Irving  along  the  untrodden  West ;  we  plunge  with  Livingstone 
into  tne  heart  of  Africa ;  we  march  tlirougli  grim  Kamtschatka ;  we 
luxuriate  in  fair  islands  of  the  Southern  Main.  China  opens  to  us  its 
immense  domain,  and  its  singular  promise.  India  reveals  worlds  of 
mystery.  Along  the  sands  of  Arabia,  and  in  stony  deserts,  we  follow 
wliere  once  moved  a  pillar  of  cloud  and  flame.  Tell  me,  are  you  so 
jlepraved  in  taste  as  not  to  enjoy  travels? 

Twin  to  this  line  of  reading  stands  the  literature  of  exj)lonition. 
The  earth  no  longer  hides  her  dead  cities :  Pompeii  and  Nineveh, 
Karnak  and  Babylon,  Mycena;  and  Hcliopolis;  Sicily  and  vSyria  and 
tCtruria  give  up  tlie  story  of  tlic  past.  Believe  me,  it  is  more  interest- 
ing than  Mrs.  Southworth  or  the  "  Ladies'  Journal  of  Fashion  !>'' 

And  now,  lest  all  this  solid  reading  make  you  jjloi-h'ing,  and  your 
mental  motion  cumbersome,  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  world's  t;arliest  and 
sweetest  teachers,  the  poets.  Do  not  try  at  first  Chaucer,  Spenser,  or 
Milton  :  to  understand  them  well,  to  take  them  to  your  heart,  you 
nnist  have  read  the  traditionary  lore  of  Persia  and  Arabia,  and  Italy 
and  Greece,  the  fliiry  tales  of  Saxon  lands.  Read  Tennyson,  and 
Longfellow,  and  Bryant  and  Jean  Ingelow,  and  Whittier  and  Words- 
ivorth — and — b;it  time  would  fail  to  tell  of  Campbell  and  Coleri<lj:o 
,;.id  Scott,  and  many  more — and  after  these  you  can  rise  to  the  Hub- 
Umer  heights  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  and  the  elder  two. 


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201 


Thus,  by  easy  and  blissful  steps,  you  will  find  your  mind  fitted  for 
the  serene  plains  of  critical  ihougiit,  where  dwell  the  greater  essayists 
—and  you  can  read  Lamb  and  Addison  and  Macaulay,  and  many 
more  who  will  fascinate  you  by  the  harmony  of  their  speech,  the  just- 
ness, quaintness,  and  beauty  of  their  thought.  Now  the  mind  is  well 
in  training,  and  it  enters  lovely  avenues  oi)en  on  every  side,  the  walks 
of  the  world  of  science,  and  reath;  of  the  wonders  of  the  flower,  the 
treasures  of  the  sea,  and  the  stories  of  the  stones,  and  the  marvels  of 
insect  life,  the  romance  of  the  birds  of  the  air. 

But  in  all  this  where  is  the  story,  the  novel,  the  deliglit  of  modern 
youth?  Youth  should  stand  on  the  thresholtl  of  maniiood  and 
womanhood,  having  read  sometliing  of  each  of  tiiese  many  things, 
before  the  novel  is  reached.  And  now,  at  last,  when  history  has 
given  you  truth  as  a  basis  of  judgment,  wheu  biography  has  instructed 
you  in  human  nature,  and  travels  have  taught  you  in  scenery,  and 
poetry  has  moulded  you  in  sentiment,  and  criticism  has  guided  you 
in  discernment,  now  you  are  at  last  able  to  reject  the  bad  and 
choose  the  good,  you  will  find  your  book  your  Mentor,  not  your 
Circe ;  take  then  the  hand  of  the  masters  in  the  novel,  and  enter 
the  charmed  circle  of  romance.  Read  few  novels  by  fewer  authors, 
wid  read  these  often.  Don't  make  friends  with  the  whole  throng  of 
light  literature  specimens;  take  the  books  of  the  great  brains,°the 
criterions  of  novel-writing  j  take  the  novels  that  are  prose  epics— 
the  kind  that  in  your  unread  childhood  you  would  have  dashed  down 
as  dry  !  Why  not  mention  the  magazines  and  the  weekly  journals? 
Simply  because  these  genii  of  our  firesides  include  in  themselves,  in 
their  best  varieties,  all  the  departments  of  reading  that  we  have 
described. 

But  hark  you:  there  is  one  Book  which  is  alone  a  library  in 
itself.  He  who  has  not  read  and  re-read  the  English  Bible  knows 
i.othiiig  of  Englisli  literature.  There  is  history,  there  lie  biograi)hy, 
and  travels,  and  philosophy,  and  poetry,  and  depths  of  science,  and 
sweetsst  romances  of  youth  and  love  and  adventure,  that  have  the 
added  glory  of  being  true.  This  Bible  is  a  standard  of  pure  taste; 
it  is  a  measure  and  model  of  the  English  tongue;  more  than  any- 
thing else  that  has  been  written  it  permeates  all  literature;  if  we 
fail  to  read  it,  to  study  it,  to  possess  it— then  fairest  similes,  and 
choicest  allusions,  and  aptcst  quotations  in  poet  and  essa^  ist  and 
novelist  and  historian  fall  unapprehended  upon  our  stupid'  brains. 
And  I  mention  this  to  you  simply  as  an  intellectual  point,  without 
referring  to  the  fact  that  here  flow,  as  in  a  blessed  fountain,  the 
life-currents  of  the  soul. 


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202 


T//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


We  were  all  greatly  pleased  with  this  little  essay,  and  we 
began  at  once  to  discuss  what  copies  we  possessed  of  such 
books  as  we  had  been  recommended  to  read,  or  how  far  we  had 
already  pursued  the  line  of  reading  indicated.  We  had  oui 
meeting  that  evening  out  at  Fred's  farm-house,  and  Fred  sug- 
gested that  Hester  had  scarcely  dwelt  as  she  might  on  the  need 
of  reading  in  the  line  of  our  business  or  work.  Fred  thought 
that  much  of  the  reading  of  each  person  who  has  a  business 
should  be  about  that  business.  He  must  read  other  things  for 
rest,  recreation,  or  general  information  ;  but  he  must  read  mainly 
in  the  line  of  his  own  duties.  A  lawyer  should  read  law,  histories 
of  famous  cases,  the  eloquent  speeches  iand  pleas  of  famous 
counsellors  and  pleaders,  the  biographies  of  the  leaders  of  his 
profession.  So  the  physician,  and  the  minister,  and  the  artist 
must  read  in  their  own  line ;  so  the  merchant  should  read  of 
commerce,  manufactures,  of  leading  merchants,  and  learn  by 
their  failure  and  success.  The  farmer  must  read  books  on 
farming,  on  soils,  on  fowls,  domestic  animals,  horticulture, 
Fred  thought  he  had  made  or  saved  hundreds  of  dollars  by 
buying  books  on  these  subjects,  subscribing  for  magazines  or 
journals,  and  taking  and  reading  the  daily  and  weekly  papers. 
He  showed  us  four  scrap-books,  begun  when  he  was  a  boy — one 
marked  Grains,  another  Fruit,  another  Floivcrs  and  Vegetables, 
and  the  last  Fowls.  In  these,  each  subject  was  alphabetically 
divided,  and  in  each  division  he  put  down  items  cut  from  maga- 
zines or  papers  on  that  subject.  He  said  that  they  were  inval- 
uable to  him,  and  also  a  great  help  to  his  fr^rm-hands,  who  read 
them  and  availed  themselves  of  the  hints  therein  contained.  "  I 
don't  follow  all  I  read,"  said  Fred ;  "  I  use  my  judgment  and 
experience  ;  nor  would  I  like  a  fool  decry '  book-farming,'  because 
now-a-days  all  that  is  worth  knowing  has  got  into  print,  and  he 
who  docs  anything  worth  the  doing  is  following,  whether  he 
knows  it  or  not,  what  is  contained  somewhere  in  a  book." 


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203 


Among  those  younger  members  of  the  society  who  took  an 
especial  interest  in  what  Hester  had  asserted  to  be  proper  read- 
ing were  Mrs.  Hlack's  two  younger  children,  Thomas  and  hia 
sist(;r  Belinda.  They  said  they  had  never  heard  anything  of  the 
kind  before;  that  the  reading  advised  was  not  at  all  what  they 
had  pursued,  and  they  meant  to  make  an  entire  change.  Their 
frank  interest  pleased  Hester,  and  she  invited  them  to  come  and 
see  her  library,  and  she  also  offered  to  help  them  make  out  a 
book-list.  Her  husband,  Dr.  Nugent,  said  privately  to  hei  that 
they  quite  as.  much  needed  an  Index  Expurgatorius,  and  that 
she  should  expound  to  them  xuhat  not  to  read.  Whether  i'  was 
because  of  this  hint,  or  of  our  young  friends'  innumerable  ques- 
tions,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  He.ster  did  write  them  a  letter  on  What 
Not  to  Ricad,  and  they  were  much  pleased  with  it  and  brought 
it  for  ir  2  to  see.     It  ran  thus : 

Dear  Thomas  and  Belinda  : 

It  was  my  exiuniiuiiion  of  your  book-shelves,  my  glance  at  the 
volumes  in  your  IkukIs  last  evening,  my  look  at  the  centre-table  where 
your  favorite  works  lie,  that  impelled  me  to  write  to  you  abuut  7C'/iai 
not  to  read.  The  press,  dear  children,  has,  like  other  good  things, 
been  largely  subsidized  by  the  devil.  One  tells  you  to  read  poetry, 
and  then  tiiere  are  poets,  as  Byron  and  Swineburn,  whom  you  should 
not  read ;  and  Burns,  for  part  of  whose  works  you  will  be  better,  for 
part  worse.  Some  novels  are  our  teachers,  some  our  destroyers; 
hi.story  is  commended  to  you,  and  .  >me  histories  are  written  in  the 
interests  of  superstition,  infidelity,  or  vice.  What  shall  you  do? 
Let  us  have  a  few  rules  for  our  guidance,  that  we  may  not  gather 
poisons,  nor  flowers  and  fruit  whereof  worms  have  eaten  out  the 
heart. 

Doubtless  wc  never  forget :  we  may  think  that  we  forget,  but,  as  in 
the  palimpsest,  the  successive  writings  are  only  overlaid  :  they  remain 
and  may  start  into  clearness.  The  mind  is  a  phonograph  which  shall 
keep  and  echo  the  impressions  of  the  past.  Books  form  in  us  habits 
of  thought  which  shall  live  forever  with  us.  Then  if  our  reading  is 
to  terminate  on  the  useless  or  the  dangerous,  it  will  be  a  thousand 
pities  that  we  ever  learned  to  read. 

To  begin,  then :  never  read  that  which,  instead  of  adding  to.,  takei 


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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


from  your  mental  or  spiritual  strength.  Do  not  let  your  reading  be 
a  succession  of  examples  in  subtraction,  but  in  addition  to  your 
inner  life.  Never  read  a  book  that  robs  you  of  earnestness,  nor  of 
that  higli  quality  of  reverence,  without  wiiich  there  can  be  no  truly 
elevated  character.  Never  read  anything  which  in  one  whit  robs  you 
of  purity,  for  it  is  only  the  pure  in  heart  who  sliall  see  God,  Never 
read  what  you  arc  ashamed  to  be  seen  reading  ;  the  instinct  to  hide 
is  your  heart's  own  sentence  of  condemnation.  But  even  what  is 
suitable  to  read  at  one  time  is  unsuitable  at  another.  Thus  you  are  at 
school,  and  you  are  pursuing  daily  a  certain  line  of  studies.  There- 
fore, my  <  hildren,  when  you  refresli  your  minds  by  reading,  you  should 
read  in  the  line  of  your  studies.  Let  us  suppose  that  you  are  old 
enough,  and  well  cultivated  enough  to  read  Tiiackeray,  or  George 
Elliot,  or  William  Black ;  yet  if  you  read  these  in  term  time,  they 
fascinate  and  distract  your  mind  from  your  scholarly  duties.  Leave, 
therefore,  these  books  for  vacation,  and  during  the  school  months 
read  history,  travels,  biography,  science.  Let  the  poetry  and  the 
romance  go  until  the  holiday. 

Do  not  on  Sabbath  read  those  secular  books  that  may  be  lawful  on 
other  days.  Read  on  the  holy  day  those  works  which  shall  help  you 
in  the  holy  life.  Don't  beguile  yourself,  Belinda,  with  a  religious 
novel,  a  piece  of  namby-pamby  stuff,  which  shall  not  only  bring  you 
no  nigher  heaven  on  Sunday,  but  shall  unfit  you  to  study  logic  on 
Monday.  No  moral  dish-water  for  you,  my  children!  C-onsider  also 
that  the  morning  finds  us  with  the  impressions  of  the  niglit  before. 
So  do  not  let  us  close  with  reluctance  at  midnight  on  Saturday  some 
entrancing  book  that  we  would  not  read  on  Sabbath;  its  image  will 
be  projected  on  our  minds  during  many  of  the  sacred  hours,  fore- 
stalling other  and  higher  impressions.  Be  heedful  also  never  to  read 
vdiat  is  popularly  called  "stuff"  or  poor  writing,  even  though  it  may 
have  no  evil  inculcations,  or  possibly  may  aim  at  a  certain  moral 
bearing.  There  is  plenty  of  good  writing,  standard  writing,  to  be 
found  for  the  asking,  and  a  production  of  low  literary  character 
weakens  the  mind.  Do  not,  like  "  Silas  Wegg  "  ard  "  Mr.  Venus," 
indulge  in  "  floating  your  jiowerful  minds  on  tea."  Fix  it  firmly  in 
your  brains  that  the  Bible  is  the  m  sure  of  excellence;  tliat  the 
Creator  of  the  mind  produced  a  book  exactly  suited  for  the  nurture 
of  the  mind.  And,  therefore,  carefully  eschew  every  work  that 
openly  or  covertly  depreciates  tlie  Scriptures;  whether  it  cavils  at  tlic 
ins'irationSi  or  th.c  statcmcitSi  or  th.e  doctrines  of  the  Bible  whcu- 
«ver  /'/  cavils  do  you  condemn  and  drop  it.     Some  works  cry  "  Hail, 


LITERATURE   IN   THE  HOME. 


205 


Master  !  "  on  the  first  page,  give  a  Judas-kiss  on  tlie  second,  and  on 
the  third  you  see  the  shadow  of  the  Roman  officers  looming  behind. 
Keep  your  eyes  open  to  danger;  don't  be  lured  on  hidden  rocks  by 
sirens'  songs.  The  easy  faith  of  youth  says :  "  a  book?  tlien  a  good." 
Not  always;  it  may  be,  in  its  "  Sunday-best"  green,  blue  or  gold,  ( 
garb  of  light;  but  look  warily :  if  there  is  a  cloven  foot  under  thi 
blue,  or  a  tail  peeping  out  behind,  drop  it. 

Don't  read  from  curiosity  what  good  people  have  condemned. 
Did  you  say,  Thomas,  that  you  had  heard  the  book  was  not  good, 
but  you  wanted  to  read  for  yourself,  and  see  if  it  were  bad,  and  how 
it  was  bad?  This  is  not  a  brave  judgment  trying  all  things;  this  is 
curiosity  and  a  mean  love  of  evil.  Better  trust  these  other  people  who 
condemn  ;  tliey  were  made  before  you  were.  I  do  not  know  that  you 
are  so  eager  to  try  if  arsenic  and  vitriol  are  dangerous,  and  how  tiiey 
are  dangerous.  We  show  our  best  judgment,  my  children,  by  taking 
some  tilings  on  trust.  The  world  is  wide,  and  we  cannot  investigate 
everytiiing ;  a  cateriiillar  on  a  grape-leaf  can  investigate  the  whole  of 
his  domain,  but  the  eagle  cannot  try  every  field  of  air.  And  lastly 
don't  read  everything  you  see,  in  an  insane  desire  to  be  called  a  great 
reader:  be  rather  a  thorough,  careful  reader.  Don't  read  anything 
just  because  you  "happened  to  pick  it  up,"  but  read  what  there  is  a 
reasonable  prospect  of  finding  worth  reading. 

Your  Friend,  Hester  Nugent. 

At  our  next  meeting  of  the  Literary  Society,  which  at  this 
time  was  held  at  Helen'.s,  an  interesting  discussion  arose  as  to 
when  to  read.  It  happened  to  be  started  by  the  Blacks,  who  had 
usually  been  silent  members  of  the  band.  Mrs.  VVinton  is  sec- 
retary, and  in  reading  the  report  of  the  last  meeting  she  gave  a 
brief  resume  of  Hester's  essay.  This,  when  the  evening  was 
open  for  discussions,  led  to  the  following  appeal  to  Hester,  from 
the  youngest  Miss  Black: 

"  You  have  given  me,"  says  ndinda,  with  a  little  pout,  "such 
an  enormous  amount  of  reading  to  do,  and  now  I  should  just 
like  to  know  wlien  I  am  ever  to  accomplish  it.  Mf  day  has  only 
twenty-four  hours  in  it,  and  half  of  them  are  night." 

"  Exactly,  my  Belinda ;  I  was  on  the  very  point  of  telling  you 
When  to  Read."  said  Hester,  smiling.     "  Make  a  habit  of  read 


■ 

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:  ;|  Iff 


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206 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


ing,  and  read  ivhciicva- you  ran.     Count  that  day  lost  when  some 
moments  have  not   been  snatched  for  reading;   and   you  will 
find  this  snatching  for  moments  a  greater  thing  than  it  seems  at 
first  sight.     After  any  period  of  years,  if  you  look  back,  you  will 
find  that  much  of  your  most  valuable  reading  has  been  done  at 
desultory  moments,  when  you  might  have  done  nothing  at  all. 
Let  me  be  practical :  ymi  go  to  call  upon  a  friend ;  you  find  that 
she  will  sec  you  '  in  a  few  minutes.'     Don't  waste  that  few  min- 
utes—they  may  grow  to  ten— in  looking  at  your  gloves  or 
poking  your  paraso!  i:^^  into  the  carpet,  but  take  a  book.     All 
parlors  should  have  books  in  them,  and  light  enough  by  at  least 
one  window  to  see  to  read  them.     A  bookless  parlor  is  a  howl- 
ing wilderness  ;  books— standard  books— are  more  important  in 
furnishing  a  parlor  than  card-baskets,  vases  and  knick-knacks  of 
all  sorts.     Take  uj)  a  l)ook  while  you  wait,  and  spend  your  time 
in  reading.     Perhaps  your  book  is  a  bluc-and-gold  Tennyson; 
and  in  that  waiting  .space  you  have  laid  up  a  jewel  in  memory's 
treasures. 

•••I  hold  It  truth  with  him  who  sings 

Til  one  HwocI  liarp  of  divers  tones, 

Tlmt  nirii  may  rise  on  stepping  stones 
Oflheir  tlcml  selves  to  higher  things. 

"  •  But  who  c,nn  so  forecast  the  years, 
Or  find  ill  griff  n  j<iy  to  m.ilch, 
Or  rciuh  n  liaml  ihroiigli  time  to  catcb 
The  fiu-ofr  interest  of  te.irs  ?  • 

Or  possibly,  some  one  has  left  'Trench's  Study  of  Words' 
within  reach,  and  you  can  set  your  brain  at  work  upon  the  far- 
reaching  proposition,  that '  language  is  fossil  history.' " 

Here  Hester  paused,  feeling  that  she  was  occupying  too  much 
time,  but  there  was  a  unanimous  cry  for  her  to  proceed  with  the 
discussion  of  this  <|uestion.  It  was  held  by  Mrs.  Burr  that  it 
was  the  veiy  theme  belonging  to  the  evening,  and  likely  to  be 
the  most  useful.  And  as  ikster  was  still  reluctant,  it  was 
moved,  seconded  and  voted  that  fifteen  minutes  were  to  be  spent 


LITERATURE  IN  THE  HOME. 


207 


in  hearing  Mrs.  Nugent  explain  When  to  Read.  As  .she  could 
no  longer  decline  with  a  good  grace,  Hester  proceeded,  still 
addressing  herself  to  Belinda  Black. 

"Again  suppose,  Belinda,  that  you  are  ready  to  go  out  walk, 
ing,  and  somebody  keeps  you  waiting.  Now,  if  you  have  the 
habit  of  reading,  instead  of  drumming  on  the  window,  and  char 
acterizing  'somebody'  as  'horrid,'  you  look  for  that  friend, 
that  '  other  self,'  of  all  spare  moments,  a  book  ;  and  if  by  chance 
it  is  a  volume  of  Jean  Ingelow,  for  poets  come  most  easily  to 
hand  in  odd  hours,  and  you  read  one  of  that  sweet  singer's 
dainty  bits  of  still-life  painting— of  brown  butterflies  wavering 
over  beds  of  golden-rod,  of  dappled  shadows  flitting  over  daisy- 
broidcred  meads,  of  flushes  of  purple  heather  on  a  sunny  rise, 
then  you  go  out  to  walk  with  eyes  awakened  to  beauty,  ahd 
heart  in  harmony  with  nature,  alert  to  catch  the  loveliness  of 
flower-set  waysides,  of  lichen-spotted  rocks,  of  vines  rioting  over 
gray  fences.  If  perchance  j-ou  might  have  indulged  in  folly  or 
gossip,  now  you,  'in  the  love  of  Nature,  hold  communion  with 
her  visible  forms.'  Have  this  habit  of  reading,  and  you  will  not 
suffer  your  mind  to  be  engrossed  with  trifles.  If  reading 
becomes  a  second  nature  to  you,  a  thing  without  which  you  can- 
not live,  you  will  not  permit  your  time  to  be  so  taken  up  bead- 
ing jackets,  or  braiding  cloaks,  or  embroidering  handkerchiefs- 
things  which  in  ten  years  will  be  forgotten  or  remembered  only 
as  ridiculous — that  you  have  no  time  for  gathering  into  your 
own  life  the  garnered  treasures  of  those  intellectual  kings,  who 
have  been  ruling  it  in  the  world  of  thought  since  time  began. 
More  than  any  other,  this  habit  of  reading  can  make  us  happy 
and  independent,  and  it  goes  far  in  .saving  us  from  being  swept 
away  in  a  round  of  folly,  which  we  name  '  liishionable  life.'  " 

"  But,  dear  Belinda,  do  not  consider  that  you  have  done  your 
whole  duty  as  a  reading  person,  wlicii  you  pick  up  a  book  in 
•pare  moments.     You  must  systematise  your  work  a»d  your 


1f  \ 


i'l 


208 


rff£   COMPLEIE   II O ATE. 


pleasures,  so  that  you  shall  have  solid  hours  for  reading.    Some 
books,  they  are  the   weighty  and  valuable  ones  generally,  vil] 
not  bear  to  be  read  in  ha'ity  snatches:  you  must  devote  to  tlicif 
perusal  uninterrupted  seasons.    Morning  hours  are  golden  hours 
for  reading;  the  brain  is  fresh  from  sleep;  the  body  is  rested; 
here  let  me  say  to  you,  my  dear  girl,  that  that  day  is  ill  spent 
when  the  morning  docs  not  have  .some  quiet  space  for  reading 
your  Bible,  and  for  prayer;  tluj  sanctifies  the  day;  it  puts  ol^r 
hours  at  interest  with  God,  and  then  he  makes  them  bring  for  h 
with  usury.     Try  by  system   in  all  your  arrangements  tc  get  a 
bright  morning  hour  or  two  for  reading.     Evening  is  another 
excellent  opportunity;  our  work  is  done;  nothing  lies  before  us 
but  to  seek  our  rest;  hurry  and  excitement  arc  over  lor  the 
time  being;  with  good  print  and  a  good  light,  here  Is  a  happy 
space  for   reading.     Be  careful,  then,   that  you   do  not  make 
engagements  for  every  evening  in  the  week;  keep  one  or  two 
for  reading;  and  here  I  would  suggest  that  Saturday  evening  is 
an  especial  time  to  use  in  the  study  of  works  bearing  on  't  m 
Bible;  work  on  the  Sabbath-school  lesson;  read  books  or  sh<  rt 
articles  that  explain  it;  let  'Biblical  Geography*  or  'Antiquities' 
•Josephus,'  'Rawlinson's    Illustrations  of  the   Old  TcstamerV 
form  your  library  for  Saturday  night. 

"  Try  these  rules  for  a  year,  Bertha,  and  no  one  will  be  43 
surprised  as  yourself  at  the  amount  of  reading  which  you  wil) 
have  been  able  to  do,  and  no  one  will  be  so  greatly  benefited." 
We  were  all  well  pleased  with  these  observations. 
Miriam  .said:  "I  have  always  found  that  \n  every  day  there 
are  more  minutes  for  reading  than  at  first  thought  we  .should 
expect.     During  the  first   two   years  of  my  housekeeping,  I 
snatched  many  minutes   for  reading  while  1  was  cooking'my 
•iutacr.     I  kept  a  book  on  th-  kitchen  shelf,  and  1  had  a  littlo 
rockinrT..chri!r  by  the  winch.w,  and  coud  comfbrtably  read  many 
pages  in  time,  which  otherwise  would  have  gone  by  idly.    Ono 


LITERATURE  m  THE  IIomb.  203 

Of  my  neighbors  greatly  condemned  this  practice;  she  said  I 
would  have  under-done  beef,  and  wate^^  potatoes,  and  burned 
soup.  ,f  I  allowed  books  in  the  kitchen,  but  her  prophecy  never 
proved  true.  I  asked  her  if  she  never  baked  a  loaf  of  bread 
made  a  pot  of  soup,  and  ironed  a  shirt  all  at  the  same  time  She' 
admitted  that  she  did.  but  said  that  was  not  a  parallel  ca^e  I 
could  not  keep  dinner  and  books  in  mind,  as  M-ell  as  ironing 
and  dmner.     But  I  knew  I  could." 

I  was  in  hopes  when  we  started  our  Litera^^  Society  that  it 
would  have  a  good  effect  upon   us  all;  that  it  would  destroy 
goss,p  and  slander,  by  giving  us  useful  and  popular  subjects  of 
conversafon;  that  it  would  encourage  studiousness  and  love  of 
readmg  in  the  young;  substitute  improving  for  frivolous  pleas, 
ures    and  animate   our  young  mothers  to  instruct  their  own 
mmds.  ana  so  become  more  valuable  teachers  for  their  children 
more  companionable  wives,  and  more  intelligent  hostesses      I 
have  not  been  disappointed  in  my  expectations^  I  find  an  inte'rest 
awakenrng  in  sound,  standard   literature,  a  desire  to  improve 
time,  and  a  new  contempt  for  vapid  or  flashy  reading.     Helen 
|s  wakmg  up  veo^  n.uch  to  the  need  and  advantage  of  reading 
She  ,nv.ted  Hester  and  myself  to  spend  an  afternoon  with  her 
.nd  she  and  Hester  had  some  improving  conversation  as  to  ILno 
'oRcad.     I  shall  set  do^vn  the  principal  points  which   Hest.r 
made  on  this  subject 

Helen  .said:  "I  have  been  trying.  He.ste,  to  put  into  practice 
what  you  suggested  about  snatching  time  for  reading.  I  fod 
myself  .slipping  behind  the  age.  knowing  little  of  current  topic, 
or  new  discoveries:  a  dull  entertainer  for  my  husband,  and  un- 
Able  to  answer  a  tenth  part  of  my  children's  questions.  So  I 
am  resolved  to  read  more,  and  with  my  household  cares  I  must 
do  .t  by  snatches.  "  Now  how  shall  I  tun.  these  odd  moments 
^-  -.ding  to  good  account  ?  I  read,  and  it  doe.,  not  profit  me 
luch:  I  forget     I  read,  and  then  what  I  read  runs  out  of 


very 


210 


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my  mind  like  water  out  of  a  sieve.  What  am  I  to  do?  How 
shall  I  read?" 

"Helen,  my  dear,"  said  Hester,  "you  arc  an  admirable  pupil; 
)'ou  hear,  and  obey,  and  develop  new  problems  for  yourself. 
Let  me  give  you  two  or  three  short  rules  concerning  hozv  to 
read.  Merely  to  hold  a  book  and  assort  in  your  mind  certain 
letters  is  not  reading. 

"  First :  read  with  fixed  attention.  If  you  are  only  reading  for 
five  minutes,  be  capable  for  that  five  minutes  of  being  completely 
absorbed  in  what  you  peruse.  If  you  are  reading  while  you  are 
waiting  for  dinner,  do  not  read  wondering  '  why  that  bell  don't 
ring,'  or  whether  the  roast  will  be  beef  or  lamb.  If  you  are 
reading,  because  you  have  a  habit  of  reading  and  carry  a  book 
in  your  pocket,  at  your  dressmaker's,  while  you  are  waiting  for 
her  to  fit  your  next  gown,  don't  read,  let  us  say,  Irving,  on  the 
'Royal  Poet  of  Scotland,'  and  muse  with  half  your  mind  whether 
the  dressmaker  will  cut  your  train  long  enough,  your  sleeves 
tight  enough,  and  your  basque  a  proper  shape.  Rcr  f  while  you 
read;  let  whatever  your  mind  applies  itself  to  be  seized  with  so 
firm  a  grasp  that  thenceforth  it  is  a  part  of  itself  School  your- 
r.clf  in  this:  all  good  habits  arc  the  result  of  persistent  discipline. 
Ixt  us  say  that  you  read  for  ten  minutes,  in  'Rawlinson's  Man- 
ual,' on  the  subject  of  Phcenicia.  Vou  close  the  book ;  you 
have  no  realizing  sense  of  those  old  Phoenicians;  they  arc  to 
you  hardly  a  name.  Open  again  your  book;  apply  yourself 
again  for  ten  minutes  to  those  same  pages,  and  if  you  must 
renew  that  process  for  ten  consecutive  days,  be  resolute  enough 
to  continue  it;  and  when  at  last  those  fathers  of  ancient  mariners, 
with  their  line  of  .seaboard  cities,  the  busy  trade  of  Zidon,  the 
splendid  merchant-kings  of  Tyre,  the  glory  of  Carthage  hum- 
ming with  its  industries,  are  yours,  an  inalienable  mental  prop- 
erty, you  will  have  learned  how  to  conquer  inattention,  you  will 
lastcred   your  own  mi 


yoi 
method  of  ruling  your  spirit 


you 


acqm 


for 


LITERATURE   IN   THE  HOME.  2II 

"To  read  is  not  merely  to  run  the  eye  over  certain  combina- 
t.ons  of  the  alphabet:  to  read  is  to  take  a  book  and  be  so  attcnt 
upon  It  that  it  becomes  your  own  mental  property.  You  can 
analyze  it.  reason  upon  it,  add  to  it  from  other  sources,  make"  it 
part  of  yourself. 

"  Learn  all  you  can  about  the  authors  whose  books  you  read: 
th,s  will  give  you  a  vital  interest  in  your  books,  and  help  them  to 
become  your  friends.     Read  zuith  sympathy.     Throw  yourself 
mto  the  age  and  race  of  which  you  read,  make  the  past  present 
and  the  distant  near;  become,  for  the  time  being,  part  of  whai 
you  are  reading.     Do  not  take  up  the  '  Canterbury  Tales  '  and 
read  ,t  with  the  pervading  sense  of  a  modern  rocking-chair  an 
anthracite  fire,  a  new  dress  with   knife-pleatings  on\he  upper 
sku-t,  and  the  near  approach  of  a  modern  dinner.     But  let  the 
opening  of  the  book  be  as  the  chariots  of  Amminadab,  carrying. 
>-ou  back  to  England's  brawling  transition  age,  Bcckefs  tomb  a 
real  shrme,  the  journey  thither  a  giant  undertaking  and  beset 
with  real  dangers;  hear  that  burly  miller  drunk  and  piping-  see 
the  pale  scholar,  with  his  Lollard  faith,  peep  under  the  hood  of 
the  pretty  prioress,  a  flirt  in  holy  orders;  laugh  with  the  coarse 
vam.  good-natured  wife  of  Roth  ;  behold  the  Taberd  Inn,  its  sign  ' 
a  knight's  wrought  cloak,  its  table  deal-boards  laid  on 'trestles 
Its  guest-room  the  great    kitchen,   with  a  fire  roaring  up  the 
chimn<;7,  and  the  joint  roasting  before  it  on  the  spit. 

"If  you  read  of  Italy,  let  go  your  hold  on  bustling,  modern 
America  with  its  practicalities,  and  drift  away  to  Tu.scan  olive 
slopes  and  purple  vineyards,  hills  veiled  in  a  blue  haze,  silvcr- 
thrcade-J  Arno  sliding  seaward,  and  the  great,  blue  Mediterra- 
nean embracing  all.  Read  with  sympathy,  and  you  will  read 
well.  If  a  work  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  studying  sympa- 
thetically its  age,  its  race,  its  aullu.-  and  its  subject-matter,  then 
It  »s  not  worth  the  trouble  of  reading. 
"  Have  also  a  habit  of  turning  over  in  your  mind  and  review- 


3 '   V 


I 
I'll 


i 


212 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


ing  your  mental  treasures.  You  come  upon  some  striking 
thought  in  Macaulay,  and  you  recall  how  Froude,  or  Burton, 
or  liancroft,  or  Motley,  illustrated  the  same  thought,  or  referred 
to  the  same  period.  From  what  fountain-head  did  the  poet 
draw  this  draught  of  elixir?  Take  the  trouble  to  compare,  to 
criticise,  to  generalize;  feel  when  you  are  reading  anything 
that  you  are  your  own  steward,  and  that  you  will  call  yourstlf 
to  account  some  day  for  these  precious  things  that  you  are 
putting  in  trust. 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  Helen,  if  you  forget,  and  if  you  can- 
not comprehend,  and  if  you  mingle  things  which  do  not  belong 
together.  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  you  learned  to  sew  by  picking 
out  and  '  doing  over'  many  a  long  seam.  Oh,  that  doing  over! 
How  vexatious  it  was  !  But  it  was  the  parent  of  all  those 
beautiful  dexterously  set  stitches,  which  now  make  you  a  pattern 
seamstress.  And  so,  child,  go  over  your  reading.  Time  is  not 
lost  if  you  go  over  and  over  again  the  same  thing,  if  it  is  a  thing 
worth  the  going  over,  and  if  you  are  acquiring  good  mental 
habits,  which  shall  hereafter  make  one  readinci  enou"h." 

These  various  suggestions  as  to  how  to  read  were  called  forth 
one  after  another  by  Helen's  inquiries  and  remarks;  but  as 
they  furnish,  as  a  whole,  a  good  set  of  rules  for  reading  in  a 
manner  to  improve,  I  have  set  them  solidly  together. 

The  more  I  consider  the  subject,  the  more  am  I  struck  with 
the  important  part  which  books  play  in  our  lives. 

I  was  reading  lately  a  work  by  Hugh  Miller,  and  I  was 
especially  impressed  by  his  remark,  that  he  had  found  among 
'his  fellow-workmen  that  few  men  who  knew  how  to  read 
became  criininals  or  paupers  as  compared  with  the  men  who  did 
not  know  how  to  read;  while  he  could  recall  almost  no  instance 
in  which  a  man,  who  was  fond  of  good  reading,  became  either  a 
rrimin.'-,!  or  a  patiix-r.  This  is  a  vcr)-  strong  testimony  to  the 
morally  preservative  power  of  reading,  and  should  encourage 


LITERATURE   IN  THE   HOME. 


213 


parents  to  orovide  their  children  liberally  with  proper,  useful 
and  entertaining  books,  even  if  to  do  this  they  must  work 
harder,  or  give  them  plainer  clothes.  I  have  long  made  a 
practice  of  choosing  books  for  my  holiday  and  birthday  gifts 
to  my  little  friends.  How  much  they  are  to  be  preferred  to 
noisy  toys!  Their  effect  upon  the  child  is  better,  they  are 
more  comfortable  in  the  household,  and  a  well-taught  child  will 
keep  them  to  add  to  the  happiness  of  its  younger  brothers  and 
sisters. 

The  moulding  influence  of  books  upon  our  minds  is  illus- 
trated by  some  remarks  of  Dr.  Guthrie's  about  the  Book  of 
Proverbs.  In  speaking  of  education  among  the  Scotch  in  his 
childhood,  he  remarks: 

"Having  learned  our  letters  and  some  small  syllables,  we 
were  at  once  passed  into  the  Book  of  Proverbs.  In  olden  time 
this  was  the  universal  custom  iti  all  the  common  schools  in 
Scotland:  a  custom  that  should  never  have  been  abandoned. 
That  book  is  without  a  rival  for  beginners,  containing  quite  a 
repertory  of  monosyllables,  and  pure  Saxon-English  undefiled. 
.  .  .  While  learning  the  Art  of  Reading  ])y  the  Book  of  Proverbs, 
-ive  had  our  minds  stored  with  the  highest  moral  truths,  and  by 
r::ge  advices  applicable  to  all  ages  and  departments  in  life;  the 
mind  while  it  was  supple  received  a  bent  in  a  direction  largely 
favorable  to  future  well-doing  and  success.  The  patience, 
prudence,  forethought  and  economy  which  used  to  characterize 
Scotchmen— giving  occasion  to  the  saying,  'a  canny  Scot'— by 
which  they  were  able  so  often  to  rise  in  the  world,  and  distance 
competitors  in  the  race  of  life,  were,  to  a  large  extent,  due  to  their 
being  thus  ingrained  in  youth  and  cliiidhood  with  the  practical 
wisdom  enshrined  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs." 

The  high  testimony  thus  given  to  the  permanently  moulding 
and  impressing  effect  of  the  study  of  this  inspired  Book  of 
Proverbs  could  in  a  measure  be  borne  to  all  good  books.     In 


I 


f..' 


WflrllH 


II  mi 


214 


TJJ£    COAfPLETE  HOME. 


them  we  come  in  contact  with  good  deeds,  good  men  and  noble 
thoughts;  we  are  taught  to  study  understandingly  the  works 
of  God ;  good  moves  on  in  them  before  us  to  perfect  consum- 
mation, and  evil  is  portrayed  in  its  course  to  shame,  IojA  ami 
sorrow;  we  learn  to  choose  the  good,  and  eschew  the  evil. 

I  have  heard  the  morality  and  thrift  of  the  Icelanders  attributed 
in  a  large  measure  to  their  love  of  books.     Each  family  owns  a 
few  volumes  which  are  read  and  re-read,  and  passed  from  hand 
to  hand.     They  are  a  reading  people.     Their  long,  cold  winters 
afford  almost  unbroken  time  for  cu'tivation  of  their  minds,  and 
the  result  is  a  simple,  studious,  laborious,  contented  people.     In 
travelling  in  this  country,  I  have  noticed  that  those  working- 
people  of  our  foreign  population,  especially  among  miners  who 
are  given  to  books  and  study,  live  better,  have  better  houses 
clothes  and  position    in    society,  than  those  who   spend   their 
leisure  time  in  gossip  or  amusements.     The  VVehh  have  nearly 
all  of  them  a  taste  for  reading,  and  a  shelf  of  booVi  "n  their  own 
houses.     The  young  people  arc  trained  to  read  in  their  leisure 
hours,  and  to  take  part  in  their  yearly  Eisteddfodds,  or  Literary 
Exhibitions ;  and  along  with  this  taste  for  books  you  find  the 
Welsh  miner  well  dressed,  gentlemanly  in   his  manners,  pos- 
sessor of  bank-stock,  and  owner  of  his  Home. 

I  picked  up,  this  morning,  a  "  Life  of  Seneca,"  and  noted  this 
remark  of  his,  concerning  the  education  of  children  :  "  I  would 
prove  to  you  what  eager  impulses  our  hide  scholars  would  have 
toward  all  that  is  good,  if  any  one  would  lead  them  on."  What 
is  a  better  Leader  in  a  good  way  than  a  good  book  ?  The  child 
reads  m  silence :  the  eye  conveys  information  to  us  even  more 
impressively  than  the  car.  The  child  reads  his  book  again  and 
again ;  the  story  or  the  lesson  is  upon  the  page,  unchangeable 
in  its  form,  to  be  referred  to,  reasoned  upon,  until  it  becomes  a 
part  of  the  mind  itself  I  was  conversing  the  other  day  with 
Mrs.  Winton  on  the  subject  of  choosing  books  for  our  familiea 
She  remarked : 


LITERATURE   IN  THE   HOME. 


215 


"  The  little  Aphis  upon  a  leaf  fills  itself  and  grows  like  that  on 
which  it  feeds :  so  tiie  mind,  especially  the  young  mind,  fastens 
upon  its  books,  and  they  become  part  and  parcel  of  itself.  Now- 
a-days  man  might  be  described  as  a  '  reading  animal.'  Our  chil- 
dren are  born  into  a  world  full  of  printed  matter :  sooner  or  later 
they  are  bound  to  read.  If  we  do  not  attract  the  child  toward 
books  by  giving  him  those  that  are  interesting,  if  we  do  not  form 
his  taste  for  the  pure  and  good  in  literature,  he  will,  by-and-by, 
be  wheedled  by  strangers  into  reading  dime  novels  and  flash 
papers,  and  what  they  call  in  England  '  penny  dreadfuls.'  We 
must  inculcate  sound  doctrine  concerning  reading;  we  must 
follow  up  this  teaching  by  watching  carefully  over  our  children's 
reading:  it  is  a  subject  worthy  our  diligent  investigation.  A 
child's  temptations  are  many  and  greater  than  we  in  our  middle- 
aged  assurance  realize.  Satan  is  prompt  enough  to  sow  evil 
reading,  illustrated  with  startling  pictures,  to  beguile  the  mind 
and  corrupt  the  taste.  We  must  also  remember  the  homely 
saying  that  '  an  ounce  of  prevention  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure,' 
and  that  a  full  cup  cannot  be  filled  fuller.  From  our  children's 
first  Primers  v/e  must  set  ourselves  to  create  in  them  a  sound 
and  healthful  taste  that  Vvould  loathe  all  poisons  of  the  mind. 
So,  before  long,  as  Plato  tells  us,  the  child  '  praises  and  rejoices 
over  the  good,  and  receives  it  into  his  soul,  and  becomes  also 
noble  and  good.  He  will  justly  blame  and  hate  the  bad  now  in 
the  days  of  his  youth,  even  before  he  is  able  to  know  the  reason 
of  the  thing ;  and  when  reason  comes,  he  will  recognize  and 
salute  virtue  as  a  friend  with  whom  his  education  has  long  made 
him  acquainted.'  " 

Mrs.  Burr,  who  was  sitting  with  us,  remarked : 

"At  this  day  it  is  easy  to  provide  reading  matter  of  a  good 

kind  for  our  families.     Books  and  magazines  are  abundant  and 

very  cheap.     Postage  on  printed  matter  is  low,  and  publishers 

will  generally  send  their  books  by  mail,  post-paid.     Expressage 


■|M 


216 


THE   COMPLETli   HOME. 


is  carried  in  most  parts  of  the  country  at  a  reasonable  rate; 
bookstores  are  established  in  all  our  towns  and  large  villages, 
while  the  extended  publication  of  subscription-books  now  brings 
numbers  of  our  most  important  and  valuable  works  to  every 
man's  door.     A  very  little  self-denial  in  laying  up  a  fund  to  pur- 
chase such  of  these  books  as  will  be  improving  and  attractive 
to  the  whole  family-circle,  and  useful   to   each    one's  especial 
business,  would  be  the  means  of  furnishing  the  Home  with  varied 
and   useful    reading,  assuring    its   good   taste    and   refinement, 
promoting  its  comfort  and  its  economies,  making  its  older  mem, 
bers  at  once  wise  and  genial,  its  juniors  intelligent  and  contented, 
its  servants  capable  and  respectable.     A  Home  without  books 
is  like  a 'garden  without  flowers,  like  a  forest  without  birds  or 
sunshine,  like  a  house  without  furniture.     Out  of  bookless  homes 
go  the  majority  of  the  criminals,  paupers,  vagrants,  maniacs  and 
chronic  invalids,  because  the  Home  well  supplied  with  books 
has  inmates  whose  leisure  is.well  occupied,  and  not  idle  time  for 
Satan  to  fill  with  mischief;  their  minds  are  well  stored,  and  not 
left  open  to  preying  fancies  to  drive  them  mad,  or  to  evil  entice- 
ments to  make  them  wicked.     They  are  people  who  know  what 
to  do  to  keep  themselves  well  or  to  cure  themselves  when  ill ; 
people  who  have  learned 'how  to  practise  economies  to  save 
their  money,  and  activities  to  earn  more  of  it ;  people  who  have 
learned,  from   the   records  of  the   wide   observation  of  many 
intelligent  writers,  the  consequences  of  things,  the   results   of 
div-rse  courses  of  conduct,  and  so  do  not  dash  heedlessly  on 
to  ruin,  but  find  guide-posts   to. point   them  on  dicir  way  to 
success  in  the  Books  in  their  Homes." 


CI    -'■r 


■m 


CHAPTER   IX. 

ACCIDKXTS   IN   THE   HOME. 


AONT  SOPimONIA's    ViKVVS   OF    PKKSEXCE  OF    MIND   AND    COURAGE 

N  looking  over  the  volumes  of  my  yearly  journals,  I  find 
frequent  mention  made  of  accidents  that  have  occurred 
^^     in  the  neighborhood,  and  among  my  acquaintance,  and 
of   the   way  in  which   these   have   been   met.     These 
accidents  arc  forever  happening,  generally  as  the  result  of  care- 
lessness or  Ignorance,  but  sometimes  owing  to  circumstances 
over  which  no  one  has  control,  and  f^  „     i.ich  no  one  is  to  blame 
There  IS  no  family  but  may  in  a  ^    .•ur.  either  as  a  whole  or  in 
one  of  Its  members,  be  brought  into  deadly  peril.     It  is  then  a 
serious  question  :  are  we  cultivating  in  ourselves  a  frame  of  mind 
which  shall  enable  us  to  meet  these  mischances  and  conquer 
tlicm?     This  power  ov,  ,   accidents  which  renders  us  victors  in 
imminent  dangers  is  called  Presence  of  Mind.     The  phrase  is 
suggestive:  it  denotes  a  mind  «/  /lome  in  all  its  powers-wits 
which  are  not  off,  as  people  say  "wool-gathering,"  but  which 
are  ready  to  act  promptly;  a  mind  which  does  not  greet  dan-er 
as  some  people  wake  up,  dazed  and  stupid,  and  taking  a  lo'iic. 
While  to  know  where  they  are,  or  what  they  are  about.     When 
a  person  lacks  Pre.sence  of  Mind,  the  appearance  of  danger  of 
need,  puts  part  of  their  minds  to  flight.     They  might  but  noM 
have  been  reasonable  beings  with  all  their  faculties  alert,  but  on 
the  appearance  of  trial,  reason,  courage,  hope,  skill,  and  qu-ct 
ness  of  thought  fly  from  them,  terror  takes  the  reins  .,nd  drives 
bkc  Phaeton  in  the  chariot  of  the  sun,  overturning  all  things. 

(217) 


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1  k 

"'I 


t"  "• 


Ii  'II 


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i-t   i:  ■  I 


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Of  this  excellent  quality,  Presence  of  Mind,  Dr.  John  Brown,  of 
Edinburgh,  speaks  thus :  "  Men  have  done  sonic  signal  feat  ot 
presence  of  mind,  and  if  asked  how  they  did  it,  they  do  no« 
know — they  just  did  it.     It  was  in  flict  done  and  then  thought 
of,  not  thought  of  and  then  done :  in  which  case  it  would  never 
have  been  done  at  all.     It  is  one  of  the  highest  powers  of  the 
mind  thus  to  act.     It  is  done  by  an  acquired  instinct."     Here  it 
is  not  intended  that  in  performing  feats  of  Presence  of  Mind  one 
does  not  thitik,  for  these  feats  arc  the  product  of  the  most  just 
and  logical  thinking,  which  grasps  at  once  an  entire  situation; 
but  the  thinking  is  done  with  electric  speed,  so  swiftly  that  one 
is  unconscious  of  its  process.     To  act  with  Presence  of  Mind  in 
danger,  requires  in  the  first  place  courage,  because  without  that, 
fear  will  paralyze  our  thinking  and  acting ;  there  must  be  no 
parleying  with  fear.     In  the  next  place  a  soundly  trained  reason 
is  required ;  we  must  have  accustomed  ourselves  to  act  logically 
and  with  foresight ;  hope,  faith,  and  .self-forgetfulness  are  also  ele- 
ments in  Presence  of  Mind  ;  in  fact  all  that  is  good  in  the  mind 
seems  to  be  present  and  in  active  operation,  and  all  that  is  evil 
is  held  in  abeyance.     These  good  powers  act  so  instantaneously 
and  so  perfectly  that  they  seem  rather  the  exhibition,  for  the 
instant,  of  an  unerring  instinct;  but,  as  Dr.  Brown  says,  it  is  an 
"  acquired  instinct:"  the  product  of  mental  training,  of  rigid  self- 
control,  of  a  proper  cultivation  of  our  powers.     Now  it  is  true 
that  some  people  seem   gifted  with  more  natural  Presence  of 
Mind  than  others;  that  is,  those  high  faculties  which  makeup 
presence  of  mind  are  in  them  naturally  of  more  active  operation  ; 
thus  they  have  naturally  more  courage  and  greater  calmness, 
and  less  fear  and  excitement ;  they  are  more  reasonable  and  less 
emotional.     But  because  a  person  does  not  originally  possess  a 
good  degree  of  Presence  of  Mind  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  acquire  it.    People  do  not  argue  that  because  they  were  bc:rn 
poor  they  must  al   ays  be  poor;  but  rather,  that,  not  havi-xy 


ACCIDENTS  IN   THE   I/OAIE. 


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inherited  a  fortune,  they  must  with  more  industry  set  to  work  to 
earn  one.  Every  one  should  face  the  fact  that  he  is  morally 
bound  to  have,  and  exhibit  when  needed,  Presence  of  Aiuid, 
because  it  may  often  happen  that  on  the  possession  by  him  of 
this  quality,  the  life,  or  limb,  or  fortune  of  himself  or  hia 
neighbor  may  depend.  A  person  of  a  responsible  age,  who  sees 
that  he  is  wanting  in  a  quality  so  valuable,  should  take  shame 
for  the  want,  and  then  resolve  to  possess  what  he  lacks;  then 
by  cultivating  courage,  self-control  and  reasonable  thought,  by 
resolutely  repressing  in  emergencies,  great  or  small,  all  excite- 
ment and  frenzy,  he  will  become  capable  of  acting  wisely  in  any 
difficulty. 

I  find  a  very  false  notion  abroad,  that,  of  course,  men  should 
have  presence  of  mind,  and  that  without  it  they  are  cowards  and 
fit  subjects  of  ridicule;  but  that  it  is  vastly  pretty  for  young  ladies 
to  fall  into  a  faint  or  a  spasm  of  hysterics,  or  a  state  of  insane 
terror  as  soon  as  an  occasion  arises  which  demands  a  reason, 
able  exercise  of  their  faculties.  Young  ladies  make  a  virtue  of 
screaming  at  a  spider;  "having  a  chill  at  seeing  a  toad;"  going 
frantic  at  the  sight  of  a  wound,  or  of  blood;  boasting" how 
frightened  they  were  at  some  trifle,  and  as  soon  as  there  is 
some  great  emergency,  when  they  should  act,  they  become 
helpless. 

Mothers  should  feel  it  a  very  important  part  of  the  training 
of  their  children  to  make  them  calm  and  reasonable  in  emer- 
gencies, and  helpful  in  accidents ;  even  young  children  can  show 
great  presence  of  mind,  and  if  this  quality  is  to  be  seated  firmly 
in  the  nnnd,  it  should  be  cultivated  from  childhood.  I  remem. 
aer  when  Mrs.  likick's  two  youngest  children  were  quite  small 
I  called  there,  and  it  happened  that  a  beetle  was  discovered 
crawling  on  Belindas  apron;  Mrs.  lilack  .screamed  and  made 
■  ncrr.Ttual  dashes  at  "the  horrid  bug,"  and  rnlinda  howled  iika 
a  Comanche.     I  put  the  beetle  out  of  the  window. 


m 


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r//£  COMPLETE  HOME. 


"Dear  Belinda  is  so  sensitive,"  said  Mrs.  Black,  proceeding  to 
pet  her  daughter ;  "  she  is  frantic  at  sight  of  a  bug." 

"I  should  prefer,"  I  said,  "to  have  her  sensible,  if  sensitiveness 
is  to  develop  in  that  style.     Is  Tom  also  afraid  of  bugs?" 
"Why,  no :  he's  a  doy,"  said  Mrs.  Black. 

"But  I  cannot  see  if  a  bug  is  dangerous  that  it  should  show 
any  respect  to  his  sc.\;  if  it  is  poisonous,  it  would  poison  him." 
"Oh,  it  isn't  poisonous,  but— it  looks  so,"  said  Mrs.  Black. 
"Well,  has  not  Tom  as  good  ^an  eye  (or  looks  as  his  sister? 
If  the  bug  IS  such  a  gorgon's  head  as  to  throw  all  beholders  into 
spasms,  Tom  should  succumb,  as  well  as  Belinda.     E.xcusc  me, 
Mrs.  Black,  I  think  the  trouble  is  just  here,  that  Belinda  has 
found  out  that  you  expect  her  to  shriek  at  a '  bug,'  and  that  you 
regard  it  a  genteel  and  praiseworthy  act  in  her,  quite  becoming 
an  embryo  lady;  but  Tom  knows  his  boy-mates  would  laugh  at 
him  soundly  for  such  folly,  and  so  shows  common-sense.     As 
to  the  bug,  it  is  not  ugly  at  all :  a  beetle  is  beautiful."     I  saw 
the  beetle  crawling  on  die  window-ledge  and  took  it  in.     "See 
this  shell;  the  wing-covering  is  polished  more  highly  than  the 
finest  rosewood,  and  is  of  the  exact  <r///;- color  which  is  now  all 
the  rage;  sec  how  daintily  these  black  spots  arc  arranged  upon 
it;  Belinda,  look  at  its  bright  eyes;  and  this  pair  of  curved  claws 
in  front  of  its  mouth  serve  to  .seize  and  hold  its  food;  pray,  child, 
what  would  you  do  without  hands  to  hold  your  bread  and  but- 
ter ?     Look  at  its  feet,  with  little  prickly  points  to  hold  fast  and 
climb  by;  and  .sec  here,  under  these  brown,  shining  shell  wings 
are  a  pair  of  flying  wings,  fine,  delicate   red  silk,  stretched  on 
tiny  folding  fianies,  as  your  fan  on  its  .sticks,  or  your  parasol  on 
Its  wipes.     You  could  easily  hurt  it,  if  you  were  so  cruel,  but  it 
could  not  possibly  luirt  you.     Now,  touch  its  smooth  back;  now 
put  it  out  of  doors," 

Indeed,  Belinda  had  become  quite  interested  in  the  beetle, 
and  she  has  never  feared  one  since;  but  her  training  had  cuiti- 


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■h:^ 


vated  frantic  screaming  at  all  creatures  of  the  kind,  and  this 
came  out  quite  to  her  mother's  mortification  soon  after. 

There  was  a  wedding  at  our  church,  by  far  the  most  splendid 
wedding  ever  in  our  town.  We  were  all  invited,  and  Mrs. 
Black  in  all^hcr  glory  occupied  a  front  seat,  with  little  Belinda, 
flounced  and  ribboned  wonderfully.  In  the  very  midst  of  the 
ceremony,  Belinda  espied  a  caterpillar  crawling  up  her  dress- 
waist.  Instead  of  picking  it  off,  or  asking  her  mother  to  do  so. 
.she  gave  vent  to  unearthly  yells,  ^hich  startled  every  one  in  the 
church,  and  stopped  for  the  time  the  marriage  ceremony.  Mrs. 
Black,  in  high  terror,  turned  to  see  what  ailed  Belinda;  plurked 
off  the  intruder  nn.  placed  her  hand  over  the  youngster's 
mouth.  Ail  ,  >;  if  it  became  a  daintily-dressed  little  lady 
to  howl  at  cac^ipuiars.  Miss  Belinda  meant  to  howl  thoroughly; 
she  kicked  and  shrieked,  and  was  carried  out  of  the  church 
purple  in  the  face,  and  her  mother  was  too  much  overcome  by 
excitement  and  mortification  to  return  to  the  wedding  part)', 
while  the  whole  town  was  full  of  condemnations  of  "that 
dreadful  child."  Why  dreadful  ?  She  was  acting  as  she  had  been 
trained  to  act. 

Who  could  expect  a  child  behaving  in  this  way  at  seven  to 
display  at  thirteen  the  Presence  of  Mind  of  a  little  girl  I  saw 
near  Niagara  ?  She  had  been  left  in  charge  of  the  opening  to  the 
natural  curiosity  called  the  Devil's  Hole.  On  the  counter  were 
a  few  jars  of  candy;  she  had  with  her  a  child  of  two  and  a  half; 
the  rear  door  of  the  slioj)  opened  upon  a  wide  table-rock  which 
overhung  the  river,  boiling  perhaps  a  hundred  feet  below,  over 
its  stony  bed,  in  prodigious  rapids.  While  the  girl  was  receiving 
tne  fees  of  a  party  about  to  descend  the  ladders  at  the  right  of 
the  rock,  the  little  child  escaped  by  the  back-door.  The  party 
gone,  the  young  nurse  saw  the  child  running  toward  the  verge 
01  the  rock;  to  call,  or  to  pursue,  would  ensure  its  destruction; 
she  grasped  a  jar  of  candy,  and  sJiouting  "candy!"  poured  it« 


m:4 


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T//£    C0MPLE7E  HOME. 


contents  out  .pon  the  rock.  The  child  looked  back;  not  six 
feet  from  destruction  it  paused;  could  not  resist  the  lavished 
sweets,  and  came  skippin^r  back  to  share  them!  Here  was 
a  fine  instance  of  Presence  of  Mind:  the  self-control  which 
repressed  the  dangerous  call  or  pursuit;  the  reason  wJiich  seized 
the  temptation  strongest  to  the  fugitive,  which  in  a  flash  argued 
-)\x\  the  dangers  and  the  probabilities  of  the  case,  and  acted  on 
the  instant,  when  to  delay  would  have  been  death. 

Cousin  Ann  has  always  been  careful  to  cultivate  Presence  of 
Mind  in  her  children.  Once  when  P>ed  was  small  I  was  there, 
and  the  door  of  the  kitchen  stove  falling  open,  the  coals  rolled 
out  upon  the  floor  and  began  to  burn.  Im-ccI,  about  three  years 
old,  began  to  scream.  "Kush!"  said  Cousin  Ann,  calmly; 
"  put  the  fire  out,  and  scream  afterwards^  She  put  a  little  pail 
of  water  into  his  hand,  and  made  him  pour  it  over  the  fire,  and 
then  gather  the  quenched  coals  on  a  shovel  and  put  them  in  the 
hearth. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said,  "  that  the  floor  is  a  little  more  burned 
than  if  f  had  left  Fred  to  shriek  and  had  poured  on  the  water 
myself;  but  I  have  tiught  him  how  to  put  out  a  fire,  and  that 
in  emergencies  it  is  better  to  act  than  to  cry!' 

I  replied:  "  The  course  you  took  is  better  for  many  reasons, 
as  I  liave  noticed  that,  in  families  where  Presence  of  Mind  is 
cultivated,  accidents  are  few:  for  the  calm,  reasonable  courage 
which  can  meet  an  accident  \vi.sely,  is  the  quality  which  will 
usually  prevent  their  occurring." 

Cousin  Ann  and  myself  were  going  from  her  liousc  into  town 
one  day  walking,  when,  as  we  passed  a  neighbor's  farm-house, 
a  woman  rushed  out,  crying,  "  Murder !  Murder!  he's  dying." 
Cousin  Ann  dashed  in,  and  I  followed  her.  On  a  chair,  just 
within  the  door,  sat  a  fine  young  man  ;  an  axe  lay  beside  him; 
the  floor  was  covered  with  blood  which  .spouted  from  his  leg 
just  below  the  knee.    Ho  had  drawn  up  his  trowscr-icg  over 


OCCIDENTS  IN  THE  HOME. 


223 


flie  knee,  but  nothing  else  had  been  done,  and  his  face  was 
growing  white  as  his  life-blood  poured  away.  On  the  instant 
Cousin  Ann  snatched  from  the  mother's  waist  her  apron  with 
wide  tape-strings,  tore  off  a  string,  and  proceeded  to  draw  it 
round  the  leg  about  an  inch  above  the  wound. 

"  Bring  me  a  little  stick,  Sophronia!  "  she  cried;  and  twisting 
this  under  the  tied  tape,  she  turned  it  around  so  as  to  increase 
the  pressure  and  check  the  flow  of  blood. 

In  a  moment  or  two  the  bleeding  had  stopped.  The  mother, 
who  had  had  presence  of  mind  to  do  nothing  but  talk,  wanted 
to  talk  loudly. 

"He  was  cutting  wood!  He  .struck  himself!  Oh,  me!  I 
thought  he  was  dead ! " 

"Be  quiet,"  .said  Cousin  Ann,  with  authority.  "Bathe  his 
face  with  vinegar  and  water:  he  is  faint.  Sophronia,  find  a 
fresh  i^^^  at  the  barn  and  whip  it  up  with  a  little  sugar :  he 
needs  something  to  strengthen  him." 

Meanwhile,  she  removed  his  shoe  and  stocking;  bathed  away 
the  blood;  helped  the  mother  draw  the  injured  man's  rocking- 
chair  away  from  the  sight  of  the  .stained  floor ,  arranged  his 
wounded  leg  .safely ;  quietly  told  a  boy,  who  was  passing,  to 
send  a  doctor  from  the  village  to  dress  the  wound;  bade  the 
woman  set  her  room  in  order ;  gave  the  young  man  the  egg ; 
and  having  in  the.se  few  moments  saved  his  life  and  restored 
him  to  comfort,  she  sat  by  him  flmning  him,  while  he  slept  fiom 
exhaustion,  until  the  doctor  arrived.  H;ul  the  poor  mother 
been  left  to  her  own  device  of  screaming  "murder,"  her  son 
would  have  been  murdered  indeed. 

When  I  first  hired  Martha,  she  seemed  so  reserved  and 
"dour,"  as  the  Scotch  .say,  and  had  such  a  blunt  style  of 
speaking,  that  I  hardly  wanted  to  keep  her.  An  accident 
happened  one  day  which  showed  mc  her  worth.  Our  next- 
door  neighbor  dashed  to  our  kitchen,  crying:  "My  Harry's  in 
the  well  I  '• 


224 


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"Arrah!  and  are  you  laving  him  there?"  cried  Martha, 
darting  out  of  the  kitchen  with  me  after  her.  The  well  was 
between  the  two  yards.  "  Saze  the  handle,  miss,"  cried  Martha 
to  me,  letting  herself  over  into  the  well  and  catching  the  rope, 
I  caught  the  windlass,  and  cried  to  the  mother  to  hold  it  with 
me.  Martha,  with  great  Presence  of  Mind,  aided  her  descent 
by  the  side  of  the  well,  so  that  her  weight  might  not  come  fully 
upon  my  arms.  Reaching  the  water  she  caught  the  child  as  he 
came  to  the  surface  for  the  last  time.  "  Fasten  the  windlass, 
miss!"  shouted  Martha;  "and  drop  me  the  end  of  a  clothes-line 
to  send  him  up  by."  In  fact,  her  promptitude  saved  the  child's 
life.  He  came  up  insensible,  but  wo  brought  him  to  after  a 
while. 

I  remember  a  rule  which  I  have  heard  Mrs.  Winton  give  her 
children  :  a  paraphrase  of  some  of  Mentor's  advice  to  Telemaque. 
"  Be  very  much  afraid  of  danger  when  you  are  out  of  it ;  when 
you  are  in  it  be  fearless ;  never  give  up."  She  was  always  very 
careful  to  teach  her  children  to  meet  accidents  with  calm 
judgment.  I  happened  to  be  there  one  day  when  her  second 
little  son  nearly  cut  off  the  top  of  his  thumb  with  a  hay-cutter. 
Mrs.  Winton  joined  the  dissevered  thumb,  which  held  only  by 
a  narrow  bit  of  skin,  and  held  it  exactly  and  firmly  in  place. 
She  held  the  child  on  her  lap,  keeping  the  wound  joined  and 
clasped  by  her  hand  so  that  he  could  not  move  it.  She  said, 
calmly,  "  My  dear,  screaming  will  not  cure  your  Uiumb,  but 
keeping  quitt  may  save  it.  The  doctor  will  be  here  in  a  few 
moments  and  sew  this  thumb  together,  and  with  care  it  may  be 
as  good  as  ever.  Come  now,  courage  ;  you  do  not  want  a  dis- 
figured hand."  The  child  took  heart,  carried  himself  bravely, 
-vnd  his  thumb  healed  with  hardly  a  scar. 

Mrs.  Winton's  Presence  of  Mind  was  of  much  service  to 
Miriam's  little  Dor.%  Mr.s.  Winton  and  I  entered  the  hou.se 
one  day  to  find  all  in  confusion :  Dora  had  scalded  her  little  arm 


<.     ! 


^^X 


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sadly  with  steam,  from  the  wrist  to  the  elbow,  and  was  almost  in 
convulsions  with  pain.     The  accident  had  just  happened.     Mrs. 
Winton  looked  hastily  to  see  that  the  skin  was  not  broken;  ran 
into  the  kitchen,  where  everything  was  always  in  order'  and 
handy;  and  in  an  instant  mixed  half  a  cup  of  flour  and  the 
same  amount  of  table-salt  into  a  thick  paste  with  cold  water. 
Mi. -am  has  a  wall-pocket  for  string;  another  for  paper.     Mrs. 
Winton  from  the  latter  took  a  paper-bag,  tore  it  open,  spread 
on  the  paste,  and  running  back  to  the  sitting-room  bound  the 
plaster  over  the  whole  arm   and   hand,  tied  it  on  with  string, 
wrapped  over  it  her  pocket-handkerchief,  and  bound  over  that  a 
napkin.     In  three  minutes  Dora's  cries  were  calmed.     She  began 
to  catch  her  breath  softly,  and  look  about  for  the  cause  of  h«r 
late  agony.     Exhausted  as  she  was  with  pain  and  terror,  she 
was  evidently  becoming  relieved.     Mrs.  Winton  took  her  on 
her  lap ;  held  the  burned  arm  extended,  with  a  little  upward 
inclination   to   keep  the    blood    from  pressing  into   it.      She 
bathed  her  face  with  bay-water,  and  began  to  sing  her  a  little 
song.     In  ten  minutes  Dora  was  out  of  pain,  and  in  five  more 
she  was  asleep. 

"Where  did  you  learn  such  a  magical  remedy?"  I  asked. 

"  I  invented  it  from  two  old  ones,"  she  said.  "  I  have  had 
flour  and  water  highly  recommended  for  burns,  and  also  wet 
salt:  both  are  of  some  use.  I  burned  my  own  hand  badly  one 
day,  and  concluded  to  unite  the  two  remedies.  I  find  the  flour- 
and-salt  paste,  laid  on  plentifully,  not  so  thin  as  to  run,  and  not 
so  thick  as  to  dry  quickly,  always  effectual  where  the  skin  is 
unbroken :  it  relieves  pain  in  two  or  three  minutes ;  cures  pain 
entirely  in  ten.  The  paste  is  always  most  useful  spread  on 
brown  paper.  When  Dora  wakes,  put  on  a  fresh  paste,  expos- 
ing the  arm  to  the  air  as  little  as  possible ;  at  bed-time,  change 
the  paste  again :   keep  her  arm  extended  and  slightly  raised. 

To-morrow  morning,  wrap  it  in  linen,  wrung  out  of  sweet 
16 


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2(5 


T//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


I'  :  i' 


mm. 


Ill-  castor-oil,  and  you  will  have  no  further  trouble  with  the 
burn." 

I  suppose  that  there  is  no  more  general  cause  of  accidents 
than  fire.  Accidents  by  fire  have  become  more  numerous  since 
the  introduction  of  coal-oil  for  lighting — not  that  the  oil  is  dan- 
gerous if  properly  used,  but  it  is  constantly  so  improperly  used. 
Servants  and  housewives  too  are  continually  using  it  for  lighting 
fires :  pouring  a  little  on  the  kindling  to  make  a  quick  blaze. 
The  flame  darts  up  into  the  can,  and  there  is  an  explosion.  I 
have  even  heard  of  a  person  sprinkling  powder  from  a  keg  upon 
a  slow  fire  to  expedite  it :  it  is  needless  to  say  that  the  fire,  leap- 
ing, followed  the  rash  hand  back  to  the  keg  to  the  destruction 
of  reckless  person  and  room  also.  Helen's  Hannah  had  this 
terrible  habit  of  using  kerosene.  Helen  used  to  say  that  she 
expected  every  morning  to  hear  a  shriek,  and  see  Hannah  run- 
ning about  the  house  all  on  fire.  She  got  her  lesson,  however, 
in  an  easier  fashion.  Helen's  Tom  was  ill,  and  I  went  to  the 
kitchen  to  make  gruel.  Hannah,  in  her  zeal  to  quicken  the 
cooking,  took  a  bottle  wherein  was  a  little  kerosene,  and 
i-prinkled  it  on  the  fire.  Not  knowing  what  she  was  doing,  I 
turned  just  in  time  to  see  the  flame  dart  back  into  the  bottle. 
Hannah  flung  it  from  her,  thus  sprinkling  herself  with  the  flam- 
ing oil.  Fortunately,  there  were  but  a  few  drops  in  the  bottle. 
I  caught  up  a  bucket,  which  stood  full  of  water,  and  dashed  it 
over  Hannah,  and  then  catching  her  by  the  shoulders  pressed 
her  upon  the  floor  on  her  face,  and  wrapped  the  kitchen  carpet 
over  her ;  she  was  spared  other  harm  than  the  loss  of  her  apron 
and  her  dress-sleeves.  The  unlucky  bottle,  breaking  on  the 
hearth,  consumed  the  rest  of  the  small  quantity  of  oil  without 
damage.  Hannah  has  been  judicious  in  her  use  of  kerosene 
ever  since.  A  fruitful  cause  of  lamp  explosions  is  the  use  of 
lamps  in  wliich  the  oil  has  burned  ver)-  lov^- ;  or,  people  do  not 
trim  the  wicks  properly,  and  red-hot  snuff"  falls  from  them; 


''■'■   t 


V 
s 


ACCIDENTS  IN  THE  HOME. 


227 


others  screw  a  lamp-top  on  poorly,  allowing  room  for  the  air  to 
sweep  in  if  the  lamp  is  moved.     If  lamps  are  filled  too  full,  or 
until  they  run  over,  there  is  great  danger  c"  an  explosion:  nor 
should  they  ever  be  filled  by  lamp  or  fire-light,  or  near  a  stove. 
No  housewife  should  retire  for  the  night  until  she  has  looked 
after  the  state  of  the  fires  in  the  house,  made  sure  that  no  wood 
or  cloth  is-  in  a  position  where  it  may  fall  on  a  stove  or  fire,  and 
has  seen  to  it  that  there  is  a  supply  of  water  on  hand  in  the 
pails.     One  should    not   go  to  bed  with  pitchers  and  buckets 
empty,  for  no  one  can  know  what  dangers  may  call  for  water 
before  daybreak.     The    old   saw,  "an    ounce  of  prevention   is 
wort',  a  pound  of  cure,"  .should  be  written  in  every  kitchen. 

How  many  fires  have  originated  from  .he  insane  practice  of 
preparing  kindling  for  the  morning,  and  leaving  it  over-night  on 
the  top  of  the  kitchen-stove,  where  fire  is  yet  burning  when  the 
family  retire!  the  wood  breaks  into  a  flame,  falls  apart,  rolls  on 
the  floor;  the  dry  pine  boards  arc  soon  in  a  blaze,  and  the  family 
are  presently    homeless.     Another   frequent   cause   of  burned 
houses  is  the  leaving  a  frame  of  clothes  beside  the  kitchen-stove 
at  night  to  finish  drying  or  airing ;  some  yielding  of  the  floor, 
puff  of  wind,  the  running  against  the  frame  of  cat,  dog  or  rati 
topples  it  over,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  burning  garments  are' 
scattering  destruction.     Millions  of  dollars'  worth  of  property 
have  been  destroyed  by  carelessness  in  taking  up  and  disposing 
of  ashes.     Ashes   should  alzvays  be  removed   in  the    morning 
before  the  fire  is  lit :  this  should  be  an  invariable  rule ;  the  ashes 
are  then  cold  and  safe.     Ashes  should  never  be  put  in  a  bam, 
wood-shed,  beside  a  fence,  or  by  any  wooden  buildings.     Wood- 
ashes  will  retain  a  central  heat,  and  communicate  fire  long  after 
they  arc  supposed  to  be  quite  extinct.     It  is  good  economy  to 
dig  a  square  ash-pit,  build  a  brick  wall  four  feet  high  about  it 
and  cover  it  with  a  sloping  roof;  if  the  under-side  o7  the  roof- 
boards  arc  covered- with  refuse  tin,  or  with  a  thick  wash  of  salt 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 

and  lime,  so  much  the  better;  if  this  ash-house  is  twenty  (cct 
from  any  building,  safety  in  this  direction  is  secured.  If  the 
place  for  the  ashes  is  so  far  from  the  house,  or  in  so  exposed  a 
situation  that  it  is  difficult  or  dangerous  for  a  person  to  go  to  it 
in  cold  or  stormy  weather,  or  for  a  jx  rson  suffering  from  a  cold, 
then  there  is  a  constant  temptation  to  leave  ashes  about  in 
wooden  pails  or  tubs,  or  to  wait  until  late  in  the  day  to  remove 
them  from  the  stove  or  to  throw  them  out  in  heaps  near  the 
house,  whence  hot  cinders  could  be  blown  to  the  buildings.  I 
have  myself  known  of  the  ruin  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  property  from  various  fires  occasioned  by  hot  ashes, 
and  I  dare  say  if  the  statistics  of  fires  referable  to  this  cause 
alone  should  be  obtained,  the  result  would  be  appalling.  In  the 
country  the  farmer  wants  the  ashes  for  his  ground ;  the  house- 
wife needs  them  for  lye:  such  an  ash-h'->use  as  has  just  been 
mentioned  could  be  made  by  any  farmer  and  his  lads  in  sf>^rc 
hours,  and  would  secure  them  from  the  dangerous  ash-barrel 
which  may  be  the  ruin  of  his  whole  fortune.  My  servant 
Martha's  sister  lost  a  snug  little  house  and  nearly  all  that  it  con- 
tained by  taking  ashes  from  her  stove  at  noon,  which  should 
have  been  removed  before  breakfast,  and  adding  to  this  the 
taking  them  in  a  wooden  pail.  An  hour  after  she  found  the 
pail  on  fire,  fallen  apart,  its  blazing  staves  scattered  around  her 
kitchen  and  on  the  rag-carpet.  Instead  of  closing  doors  and 
windows,  dragging  up  the  carpet,  and  fighting  the  fire  with  a 
bucket  of  water,  she  fled  screaming  from  the  place,  leaving  the 
door  wide-open,  which  fanned  the  flame  beyond  control.  People 
whose  carelessness  allows  a  house  to  catch  fire  are  generally 
those  who  have  no  presence  of  mind  to  use  proper  means  to 
extinguish  it.  That  was  a  wise  law  of  stout  old  Peter  Stuy- 
vesant.  Governor  of  New  York  in  the  Dutch  times,  which  fined 
every  man  who  allowed  his  premises  to  take  fire,  and  then  ho 
ded  the  fine  for  buckets,  hooks,  ladders  and  other  mean* 
putting  out  fires. 


ACCIDENTS  IN  THE  HOME. 


229 


Speaking  of  fires  I  am  reminded  of  people's  carelessness  in 
the  use  of  matches.     They  leave  matches  in  closets  near  chim- 
neys, or  in  places  exposed  to  a  strong  sun-heat,  so  that  they  may 
be  ignited  by  what  is  called  spontaneous  combustion.     Matches 
are  left  on  shelves,  in  paper-boxes,  where  mice  can  get  among 
them;  they  arc  dropped  around  the  floor,  and  swept  into  dusty 
cracks  and  corners  ;  a  burnt  match  with  a  red-hot  end  is  dropped 
into  a  wood-box,  or  on  a  floor  covered  with  matting.     People 
carry  matches  about  in  their  pockets,  and  leave  them  hanging  up 
in  a  dusty  coat,  and  then  wonder  why  fires  are  so  frequent. 
When  we  think  of  the  millions  of  dollars  yearly  lost  in  fires,  we 
must  be  sure  that  there  is  inexcusable  carelessness  somewhere. 
A  great  fire  like  that  in  Chicago  or  Boston  astounds  us,  but 
yearly  quite  as  much  property  is  lost  in  isolated  fires.    Scattered 
over  all  the  country  one  sees  the  blackened  ruins  of  what  were 
handsome   or   comfortable  farm-houses   and  fine    barns.      The 
phrase,  "loss  covered  by  insurance,"  seems  to  deceive  people; 
"loss  transferred  by  insurance"  wou^fl  be  a  truer  term,  for  the 
loss  is  a  loss,  and  the  dollars  burned  up  are  dollars  gone,  lost 
entirely  out  of  the  general  purse.     The  contributions  of  the 
many  on  insurance  policies  have  saved  the  one  loser  from  ruin, 
/he  loss  is  spread  out  more  widely,  and  so  is  less  felt  by  a  single 
individual ;  but  it  is  a  real  loss  of  property  just  as  much  as  when 
one  reads  "  no  insurance." 

Nothing  is  more  alarming  than  an  outbreak  of  fire  ;  almost  no 
accident  seems  so  calculated  to  "  turn  one's  head,"  as  people  say ; 
consequently  the  damages  of  fire  are  greater,  because  people 
fail  in  fighting  it  properly  at  its  beginning.  Air  should  be  shut 
out  from  the  burning  place  as  much  as  possible  ;  if  it  is  too  late 
for  individuals  to  fight  the  monster  with  buckets  of  water,  then 
shut  the  fire  in  closely,  and  begin  to  remove  furniture  until  hose 
can  be  brought.  The  most  coolly  systematic  meeting  of  a  fire 
Miat  I  ever  knew  was  the  case  of  a  widow  near  our  village. 


<'«[' 


6      ■" 


^;-ri'; 


SI  Mi 


230 


r//£  COMPLETE  HOME, 


She  returned  from  church  one  afternoon  with  her  three  grown 
daughters  and  a  ten-year-old  boy,  and  found  her  house  on  fire ; 
the  fire  being  in  the  kitchen,  and  under  such  headway,  that  their 
efforts  would  be  impotent  to  check  it.  Mrs.  G.  saw  this  at  a 
glance ;  she  bid  the  boy  run  back  the  mile  to  the  village  and 
call  the  fire  company ;  in  a  moment  closed  the  kitchen  shutters 
and  laid  a  rug  against  each  closed  door  to  shut  off  all  air.  One 
daughter  then  set  herself  to  rescue  the  goods  in  the  sitting-room 
next  the  kitchen ;  the  mother  and  the  two  other  girls  took  each 
a  bed-room.  They  did  not  waste  a  second  :  each  taking  a  sheet 
from  the  bed,  emptied  the  bureau-drawers  and  the  closets  into  it, 
tied  the  corners  tightly  and  flung  it  from  the  window ;  the  other 
sheet  was  in  like  fashion  tied  about  the  bedding  and  flung  out; 
next  the  carpet  was  pulled  up,  the  curtains  wrapped  in  it,  and 
these  went  out  the  window.  Two  of  the  girls  then  ran  out  of 
doors,  dragged  these  rescued  goods  to  a  place  where  the  wici 
blew  to  and  not  from  the  fire,  and  piling  them  up  spread  a  carpet 
over  them.  Two  and  two  they  then  carried  out  I  heir  trunks ; 
and  while  the  three  girls  began  on  the  furniture,  the  mother,  >vho 
had  emptied  the  room  over  the  kitchen,  deluged  il  well  with  all 
the  water  she  could  bring.  They  left,  so  promptly  that  it 
seemed  done  by  instinct,  things  which  were  of  small  value,  or 
readily  broken ;  they  threw  nothing  which  would  break  out  of 
.  a  window,  and  carried  down-stairs  no  soft  bundle  which  could 
be  thrown  out.  When  help  came,  the  house  was  pretty  welf. 
emptied ;  and  was  finally  saved  with  the  loss  of  the  kitchen,  th( 
scorching  of  the  room  above  it,  and  the  burning  of  the  wash- 
shed.  Mrs.  G.  told  me  that  they  would  have  saved  all  theii 
goods  in  complete  order,  even  if  the  house  had  been  lost.  It  is 
the  part  of  prudence  always,  except  in  severe  freezing  weather, 
to  have  plenty  of  water  in  every  bed-room ;  and  if  there  is  a 
bath-room,  one  or  two  buckets  of  water  should  be  always 
standing   there  ready  for  use.     I  find  in  my  journals  a  deal 


ACCIDENTS  m  THE  HOME. 


231 


about  accIcLnts  by  fires ;  but  fire  is  not  the  only  cause  of 
accidents  by  any  means. 

In  a  house  full  of  children  how  many  accidents  are  occasioned 
by  falls!  Helen  says  it  seems  as  if  some  of  her  half-dozen  were 
tumbling  off  chairs  or  down-stairs  continually ;  children  should 
not  be  encouraged  to  make  much  ado  over  small  matters,  but 
falls  where  the  head  or  back  rer-ivcs  r.  heavy  blow  are  apt  to 
be  dangerous;  the  head  shoulc  in  such  :■  case  be  plentifully 
bathed  in  cold  water;  a  few  dro^^  ;  :'\  amm/nia  in  water  should 
be  administered,  heat  or  friction  api  •'  '-ox  Lo  the  hands  and  feet, 
and  the  child  should  not  be  allowed  to  sleep  within  two  or  three 
hours ;  its  attention  should  be  awakened,  and  drowsiness  kept 
off  by  all  possible  means;  if  nausea  follows  a  fall,  a  physician 
should  be  at  once  sent  .for. 

Indeed,  the  accidents  which  befall  children  arc  innumerable. 
I  find  record  how  Master  Tom  undertook  to  pound  up  glass 
with  a  stone  and  was  nearly  frantic  from  a  bit  which  got  into 
his  eye.  The  case  was  desperate;  Tom,  roaring  lustily,  wanted 
to  shut  his  eye  and  rub  it  with  his  fist,  thus  making  bad  worse ; 
moreover,  not  having  been  trained  to  obey,  we  could  do  nothing 
with  him.  I  was  obliged  to  tie  his  arms  down  with  a  towel ; 
then  Hannah  held  him  firmly  back  over  my  lap;  I  drew  the  eye 
open,  lifting  the  upper  lid,  and  Helen,  by  my  directions,  syringed 
it  thoroughly;  I  then  concluded  the  most  of  the  glass  must  be 
out;  I  slipped  three  flaxseeds  under  the  lid,  tied  the  eye  up  with 
a  napkin  wet  in  cold  water,  put  Tom  in  bed  in  a  dark  room,  and 
sat  by  him  telling  him  stories  until  he  fell  asleep;  his  eye  was 
bloodshot  and  needed  a  shade  for  a  few  days,  but  received  no 
permanent  injury.  Another  of  Tom's  accidents  was  when  Hester 
and  I  had  him  up  in  the  mountains  with  us.  There  was  no 
doctor  within  ten  miles.  Tom,  who  is  a  tease,  teased  a  dog  and 
had  his  thumb  severely  bitten.  It  was  in  hot  weather,  and  visions 
cf  hydrophobia  flashed  upon  us  as  soon  as  he  screamed.   Hestei: 


hHbk 


232 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


!  J 


seized  his  hand  and  made  a  swift,  sharp  cut  above  the  bite  in  the 

fleshy  part  of  the  lower  joint  of  the  thumb,  holding  his  hand 

firmly  downwards;    she   then  washed  the  wounds  thoroughly 

in  water  pretty  strong  with  ammonia,  and  made  him  take  some 

ammonia  water;  after  this  she  gave  him  a  hot  soda-water  bath, 

administered  a  good  dose  of  magnesia,  and  put  Tom  to  bed, 

keeping  the  cloths  on  his  hand  wet  with  ammonia  water.     Her 

patient  complained  bitterly  of  this  heroic  treatment,  but  Hester 

told  him  that  any  treatment  was  better  than  hydrophobia:  that 

if  there  was  poison  in  his  system  there  must  be  help  to  throw  it 

off,  and  among  other  good  results  she   hoped  her  doctoring 

would   produce  a  carefulness  about  teasing   dogs.      I  do   not 

know  how   dangerous   Tom's   bite   might   have   been,  but  he 

never  suffered  any  other  ill  effects  from  it  than  Hester's  style 

of  cure. 

I  have  always  found  ammonia  very  excellent  for  bites  and 
stings,  and  of  late  years  I  have  used,  with  very  good  effect,  cos- 
moline  for  the  bites  of  spiders  and  poisonous  insects. 

While  Hester  and  I  were  at  the  mountains  at  this  time  we 
had  another  patient;  a  young  lad  who  was  working  on  a  barn 
roof  had  a  sunstroke.  All  was  confusion ;  some  declared  that 
he  was  dead;  others  shouted  for  brandy;  we  had  him  laid  in  the 
shade  and  poured  very  cold  spring  water  over  his  head  and 
wrist-.;  I  pounded  some  ice,  folded  it  in  a  long  towel,  and,  the 
men  raising  the  patient,  I  placed  it  under  his  spine  and  the 
back  of  his  neck;  Hester  reject-']  the  proffer  of  brandy,  admin- 
istering instead  ammonia  water,  and  bathing  his  fice  and  neck. 
in  iced  bay-water;  she  also  had  the  men  rub  his  feet  vigorously; 
under  this  treatmr-^t  our  patient  recovered  very  speedily. 

I  remember  that  was  a  very  hot  summer,  and  one  day  I  saw 
an  instance  of  IMr^.  Burr's  readiness  in  meeting  danger.  I  was 
sitting  with  her  in  the  .sewing-room  up-stairs,  and  her  servant 
was  ironing  in  the  kitclu  .)  •  Mrs.  IJurr  glanced  from  the  window, 


ACCIDENTS  IN  THE   HOME. 


233 


then  sprang  like  a  flash  to  the  entry  above  the  kitchen  stairs  and 
cried:  "Mary!  shut  that  outside  door!"  Her  voice  was  loud 
and  peremptory. 

Mary  began  :  "  Why,  ma'am—" 

"  Shut  that  door ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Burr,  in  a  tone  that  admitted 
no  disobedience,  and  the  door  slammed  shut. 
"Are  the  other  doors  shut  ?    Shut  the  window." 
Down    came   the  window,  and   then    Mary's  voice:  "Why, 
ma'am,  it's  that  burning  hot — " 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Mrs.  Burr;  "and  there's  a  mad  dog  ax  the 
yard,"  and  she  went  down  to  assure  herself  about  the  doors. 
In  a  few  minutes  more  we  heard  two  shots,  and  the  dog  lay 
dead.  The  open  kitchen  door  was  in  his  direct  track,  and  of 
this  Mrs.  Burr  thought  as  she  saw  him  turn  towards  her  gate; 
h.>r  quickness  in  ordering  it  shut  by  Mary,  who  was  standing 
beside  it,  perhaps  saved  the  maid's  life. 

"Oh,"  said  Mary,  overcome,  "  what  a  mercy  I  shut  it  when  I 
did!" 

"  Hereafter."  replied  Mrs.  Burr,  "promptly  do  as  you  are  told, 
and  make  your  objections  afterwards." 

I  have  observed  that  those  who  are  remarkable  for  Presence 
of  Mind,  for  courage  in  danger,  are  very  little  likely  to  be  injured 
in  the  efforts  which  they  make  for  them.selves  and  others  ;  their 
fearlessness,  which  in  a  large  measure  arises  from  unselfi.shness, 
their  calm  bravery  and  good  judgment,  teach  them  to  do  the' 
right  thing  in  the  right  way;  so  that,  for  instance,  while  a  person 
who  goes  wild  with  terror  at  sight  of  some  one  in  flames  is 
often  burned  with  them,  the  posse.s.sor  of  Presence  of  Mind  will 
save  both  parties  with  but  small  injury.  So  I  once  .saw  a  slender 
young  woman  stop  a  frightened  horse,  soothe  him,  tie  him 
■securely,  and  relieve  two  ladies  in  the  buggj-,  who,  while  they 
might  have  controlled  the  aniiuai  if  tliey  had  controlled  them- 
selves, were  only  by  their  shrieks  adding  to  the  difllculty.     She 


if 


#,'^'       I 


5P 
^1 


i 


234 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


who  came  to  the  rescue  niiglit  very  properly  have  pleaded  her 
health  as  an  excuse  for  doing  nothing,  but  knowing  what  was 
to  be  done,  and  calmly  fearless,  she  prevented  a  serious  accident, 
and  that  with  entire  safety  to  herself.  I  think  many  women 
positively  make  a  virtue  of  being  nervous  about  horses ;  they 
will  leap  from  a  carriage  where  a  horse  is  curveting  or  friglitened, 
and  in  the  leap  get  serious  damage,  when  by  keeping  quiet  no 
harm  would  have  ensued;  or,  they  will  snatch  at  the  rems, 
grasp  a  driver's  hands,  scream  in  a  manner  to  increase  a  horse's 
panic,  and  so  occasion  a  disaster  which  quiet  might  have  hin. 
dered. 

Miriam  several  times  showed  great  presence  of  mind  in  trying 
circumstances,  as  I  remember.     As  she  opened  her  front-dnor 
entering  her  home  one  afternoon,  her  little  boy  met  her,  his 
gingham  apron  all  in   flames.      Without  a  word  she  threw  him 
on  his  face,  and  began  rolling  him  rapidly  on  the  hall-floor,  until 
reaching  for  a   rug  lying  by  a  door,  she  wrapped  that  around 
him,  and  presently  extinguished  the  fire.     At  another  time  she 
was  buying  .shoes  in  a  shop,  when    a   sound  of  choking  was 
heard  from  the  next  room.     The  woman  who  waited  on  her 
looked  about,  and  cried:  "My  baby's  dying!  "     Miriam  .sprang 
with  her  into  the  next  room,  and  saw  a  child  of  a  year  old  on 
the  floor  strangling.     She  caught  the  little  thing  up  under  her 
left  arm,  holding  its  head  partly  downwards,  and  pressed  two 
fingers  of  her  right  hand   firmly  downward   and   backwartl  in 
the  hollow  of  the  throat;  this  forced  the  lower  part  of  the  throat 
to  close,  and  insl.intly  the  cau.se  of  the  choking,  a  copper  cent, 
which  the  lilile  one  had  got  about  half  way  down  its  throat, 
came   up.      This  pressing  on  the  outside  of  the  throat  at  the 
hollow,  njaking  the  pressure  downward  and  backward,  is  nnich 
better,  in  case  of  a  child  .strangling  upon  any  half-.swallowed  sub- 
stance, than  the  ordinary  fashion  of  thrusting  the  finger  into  the 
mouth,  which  usually  crowds  the  obstruction  flirther  down. 


ACCIDENTS  IN  THE  HOME. 


235 


Too  much  care  cannot  be  exercised  in  keeping  away  from 
young  children  marbles,  bits  of  money,  thimbles  oi  other  such 
substances,  wherewith  they  might  choke  themselves.  Astound- 
ing as  the  statement  may  seem,  I  once  saw  in  a  grave-yard  the 
graves  of  five  infants  of  one  mother,  all  of  whom  ]i:id  come  to 
their  death  by  choking  with  a  thimble.  Perhaps  I  misjudged 
that  unhappy  mother — whose  losses  finally  made  her  insane — • 
and  she  luid  not  been  careless  in  this  unhappy  series  of  disasters, 
but  I  thought  of  the  verse  in  Proverbs:  "Though  thou  bray 
a  fool  in  a  mortar  with  a  pestle,  yet  will  not  his  foolishness 
depart  from  him."  It  is  dangerous  also  to  give  a  child  paper  to 
play  with,  because  it  is  apt  cO  fill  its  mouth  with  paper,  and 
presently  to  choke  on  the  wet  lump.  Too  much  care  cannot 
be  exercised  over  the  things  given  to  a  young  child  to  amuse  it. 
An  acquaintance  of  mine  carelessly  handed  a  child  a  piece  of 
green  worsted  cloth.  After  some  time  she  saw  that  the  babe's 
mouth  was  discolored  Trom  sucking  this  rag;  in  fact,  the  child 
was  poisoned  with  the  dye.  and  after  a  two  months'  illness 
narrowly  escaped  with  its  life.  Speaking  of  poison,  reminds  me 
that  we  should  keep  on  hand  some  simple  antidote.  The 
whites  of  raw  eggs,  also  mustard  and  water,  arc  often  useful 
where  p(>isoii  has  been  swallowed.  When  I  was  spending  a 
winter  with  my  half-si.ster  in  New  York,  her  daughter-in-law 
rushed  into  the  kitchen,  crying  that  she  was  poisoned.  She 
had  carelessly  mistaken  a  poison  given  her  for  a  bath,  and  used 
it  internally.  My  sister  was  leaking  .sponge  cake,  and  had  by 
her  a  plate  of  whites  of  eggs,  which  she  was  about  to  beat.  She 
promptly  administered  the.se,  and  .saved  the  young  v.  ijman's  life. 

Of  late  I  have  been  urging  upon  my  young  friends  the 
importance  of  training  their  children  in  habits  of  self-control,  in 
the  exerci.se  of  Presence  of  Mind,  that  they  may  act  resolutely 
and  bravely  in  cfncfgcncics,  and  mc-.-t  accidents  with  calmness. 
It  13  not  worth  while  to  wait  for  some  great  crisis  to  occur  to 


I  %  J 


I  « 


■Mk  ill 


236 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


give  this  training :  begin  it  in  little  things.     When  anything  is 
dropped  or  broken,  let  the  damage  be  repaired  promptly  and 
properly:   thus    one   is   accustomed   to   think   reasonably   and 
judiciously.     The  screaming  and  excitement  over  small  mis- 
adventures, which  begin  often  as  a  mere  affectation,  end  in  a 
real  incapacity  for  rendering  effective  service  in  time  of  need. 
I  have  noticed  that  those  who  exaggerate  in  their  views  and 
accounts  of  things,  by  accustoming  their  imagination  to  super- 
sede their  judgment,  end  in  becoming  timid,  nervous  and  help- 
less in  a  crisis.     There    is   no   greater   folly  than   to  educate 
children  into  cowardice.     Parents  do  this  by  showing  cowardice 
themselves,   by   allowing    their    children   to   be  terrified   with 
foolish  tales,  jr  made  the  victims  of  cruel  jokes,  or  frightened  to 
render  them  obedient.     Train  them  to  look  reasonably  at  all 
things,  to  see  that  in  every  danger  or  difficulty  there  is  some- 
thing that  can  be  done,  if  it  is  only  to  keep  calm  ana  wait;  and 
let  them  learn  that  the  real  point  of  danger  is  when  the  r  ind 
has  lost  the  mastery  of  itself,  when  reason  has  given  the  r  .is  to 
fear  or  to  imagination.     How  many  evils  are  intensified,  or  real 
dangers   brought   out   of  imaginary   dangers,   by   tliis  wicked 
excitement!     A    lady   in    our  village  was    ill,  when  her  nurse 
rushed   in,  crying,  "  Harry's  drowned !  he  fell  in  the  creek !  " 
The  unfortunate  mother  was  thrown  into  a  congestive  chill,  and 
in    a   few  hours    was   dead;    while    her  child,   who    had   been 
pulled  out  of  the  water  as  quickly  as  he  fell  in,  had  no  harm  but 
a  wetting.     If  the  child  had  been  drowned,  the  news  should  not 
have  been  so  hastily  carried  to  the  sick  mother;  while  if  he  had 
.seemed   drowned,  and  had   really  been  near  to  death,  vigorous 
efforts,  as   rubbing,  wrapping   in    hot  blankets,  and  the   .    -  r 
known  remedies,  might  have  resuscitated  him. 

I  have  heard  people  argue  that  they  were  not  to  blame  for 
lacking  Presence  of  Mind,  and  sn  fiiling  to  furnish  a  nrrper 
conduct   in   cases   of  accidents.     They  say  that   the   courage, 


ACCIDENTS  m  THE  HOME. 


237 


reason,  decision,  firmness,  which  compose  Presence  of  Mind,  are 
gifts  of  God,  not  to  be  created  by  human  effort,  and  he  who 
lacks  them  is  rather  to  be  pitied  than  blamed.     Now,  I  reply, 
that  all  peop'e,  who  are  not  idiots  or  insane,  have  in  them  the 
germs  of  all  these  qualities ;  these  are  implanted  in  their  minds 
by  God;  and  whether  weak  or  strong  in  their  inception,  they  are 
capable  of  increase  by  cultivation,  and  they  wiil  dwindle  if  they 
are  not  fostered ;  therefore,  he  who  lacks  these  powers  is  guilty 
in  the  lack,  inasmuch  as  he  has  not  made  the  best  of  himself, 
has  not  developed  the  good  that  was  in  him,  and  by  so  failing] 
has    really   developed    fear,    feebleness    and    idle    excitement. 
Some   people,   especially   those   of   delicate   constitutions,   are 
victims  of  nervous  tremors  and  terrors  ;  they  tremble  and  grow 
faint  at  a  cry  of  pain,  at  sight  of  blood,  at  the  sound  of  a  fall; 
only  by  painful  efforts  can  they  school  themselves  to  conquer 
these   predispositions.      They   who    out   of  these    natural    dis- 
abilities   develop    courage,    and    helpfulness,    and    calm    self- 
control  should  be  crowned  as  true  heroes.     Every  effort  toward 
this  attainment  of  Presence  of  Mind  they  will  find  worth  the 
making  in  the  good  they  do,  the  evil  they  avoid  doing,  and  the 
satisfaction  of  conscience.     Every  effort  will,  in  its  very  painfuN 
ness,   lift  them    nearer  to   rigid   self-control.     "The   angel   of 
martyrdom  is  brother  to  the  angel  of  victory." 


•M 


W\ 


u  '"Shi- 


J' 


CHAPTER  X. 


RELIGIOxV   IN   TIIL   HOME. 


WHAT  AUMi-   SOPHROMA    HAS   TO   SAY   OF   FAMILY   PIETV. 

NE  Sabb  1^1  fivf  ning  in  June,  I  was  sitting  on  my  front 
piazza,  reading,  when  a  neighbor  of  mine,  with  his  two 
little   boys,  rcLurnin.,   from  a  walk,  passed    me.     The 
youni^est  child  called  to  me  for  some  roses  that  !:::revv  in 
my  yard,  and  I  bid  him  help  himself     The  three  then  ca-ae  in 
and  sat  down  near  me  on  the  steps.     After  a  little  general  con- 
versation, I  said  to  my  neighbor: 

"  Mr.  Carr.  you  have  a  promising  family  of  boys  growing  up 
around  you,  and  I  am  sorry  to  see  that  you  do  not  take  them  to 
church,  and  bring  them  up  in  the  ways  of  piety." 

"  Why,  Miss  Sophronia,"  .said  Mr.  Carr,  "  I  don't  believe  in 
religion!" 

"  Is  it  possible ! "  I  replied.  "  But  you  are  always  esteemed  as 
a  very  industrious,  honest,  generous,  law-abiding  man." 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Carr;  "I  hold  to  morals,  but  not  to 
religion.     I  believe  in  abiding  by  the  laws." 

"Suppose  you  wcte  in  a  country  where  stealing  was  not  coii- 
trary  to  law,  would  you  steal?" 

"Why,  no;  I  have  a  principle  against  stealing." 
"As  you  abide  by  the  laws,  and  do  not  believe  in  rcligif  n,  I 
suppose  you  adhere  to  the  statute-book,  and  not  to  the  Bib' 
"  That's  about  it." 

"Did  you  never  cor  '  i;  r  that  these  morals  in  '- hich  ;-ou 
irc  originall)'  laid  down  in  the  Bible  as  a  ^c. 


re- 


(238) 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME.  2;"  9 

ligion,  that  our  statute-books  are  modelled  on  the  Bible  laws 
prohibiting  what  it  prohibits,  and  for  the  most  part  following  its' 
penalties?     Countries  which  have  no  Bible,  no  Christian  rdig- 
ion,  have  no  pure  code  of  morals,  no  righteous  statute  laws.     If 
you  will  cast  over  in  your  mind  the  present  state  of  the  coun. 
tries  in  the  world,  Christian  and  unchristian,  if  you  will  run  over 
in  your  thoughts  the  history  of  the  world,  you  will  see  that 
morality  and  justice  have  spread  among  nations  just  in  propor- 
tion as  Bible-light  has  spread.     It  is  a  mere  matter  of  facts  and 
statistics,  not  of  theory.     Contrast  Germany  and  Turkey  En- 
land  and  India,  Holland  and  Siam,  the  United  States  and  Africa 
Then  draw  the  lines  a  little  closer,  and  look  at  those  countries 
where  the  Bible  has  been  free  in  the  vulgar  tongue  and  where  it 
has  been  hidden,  and  contrast   the  intelligence,  the  purity  of 
morals,  the  statistics  of  education,  the  number  of  murders,  the 
proportion  of  lawful  marriages,  the   character  of  truthfulness. 
Take  the  same  country  wun  a  free  Bible  and  freedom  of  wor- 
ship,  and  without-Italy,  for  instance,  in  these  two  cascs-and 
iice  when  was  the  march  of  improvement,  the  increase  in  wealth, 
power,  unity  and  credit  among  other  nations." 

I  knew  my  neighbor  was  a  reading  man,  and  that  he  boasted 
of  a  good  historic  library. 

He  pondered  a  while,  hesitating.  "  Yes,"  he  .said,  "  it  does 
seem  that  morals  and  religion,  civilization  nnd  freedom  in  wor- 
ship, the  Bible  and  good  laws,  go  hand  in  hand.  But,  Miss 
Sophronia,  we  might  look  at  religion  as  an  education,  which 
states  need  to  bring  them  up  to  a  point  of  development  where 
they  can  look  out  for  themselves,  as  a  lad  needs  schooling,  and 
then  quits  school." 

"  But  the  mind  is  cither  going  forward  or  backward;  it  cannot 
stand  still :  if  it  does  not  advance,  it  will  retrograde.  Suppose 
on  leaving  school  the  boy  never  looks  at  a  printed  word,  never 
writes  a  word,  lets  drop  the  acquirements  which  he  has  made. 


m 


240 


r//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


\%  ■;  !: 


what  will  become  of  him? — he  will  brutalize.  If  the  state  in  all 
its  individuals  cuts  loose  from  religion  after  it  has  risen  by 
religion,  then  anarchy  will  follow.  If  states  ristj  by  God's  law, 
they  stand  by  it.  You  say  you  hold  to  morals,  but  do  not 
adhere  to  the  Bible.  The  morals  to  which  you  cling  are  a  part 
of  the  Bible.  Let  us  take  the  Moral  Law.  Here  are  the  first 
two  Commandments  about  worshipping  God,  and  not  worship- 
ping images:  what  do  you  do  with  them?" 

"  Nothing.     That's  religion,  and  I  just  let  it  alone." 
"  Take  the  next — against  profanity." 

"Well,  Miss  Sophronia,  swearing  is  useless  and  vulgar;  it  is 
a  mark  of  blackguards,  common  to  men  drunk,  and  men  lying, 
and  men  in  a  passion.  It  is  also  forbidden  by  the  laws  of  some 
states.  I'm  against  swearing,  as  a  matter  of  decency  and  good 
order." 

"  Try  the  fourth — about  keeping  the  Sabbath." 
"  Well,  now.  Miss  Sophronia,  I  think  every  man  should  keep 
it  as  he  pleases.  If  I  take  a  walk,  I  don't  hurt  my  jeighbors  by 
doing  it.  If  men  prefer  recreation  to  church,  why  let  them  have 
recreation.  Why  cannot  Suriday  be  left  like  any  other  day  in 
the  week,  and  let  those  who  want  to  go  to  church  on  it  go  ?  " 

"  If  Sabbath  is  left  like  any  other  day  in  the  week,  then  out 
business  places  must  be  full  of  traffic,  buildings  must  be  going 
up,  boats  and  cars  must  be  running,  the  farmer  who  prefers  to 
work  can  keep  his  hands  haying,  harvesting  or  ploughing,  all 
places  of  amusement  must  be  open,  peddlers  crying  their  wares, 
organ-men  grinding,  auctions  going  on,  factories  working. 
Consider  in  such  a  case  that  all  men  who  are  employes  must 
lose  their  Sabbath  or  their  situations;  they  may  have  a  con- 
science about  the  matter,  and  desire  to  keep  the  Sabbath  holy, 
but  they  cannot,  unless  they  throw  up  their  business,  and  stand 
open  to  beggary.  All  people  who  have  leisure,  and  desire  to  go 
to  church,  would  find  their  services  invaded  by  noise :  they  would 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME.  gj-- 

be  deprived,  against  their  wills,  of  the  calm  and  rest  which  SaJ 
bath  mtcnds.     You,  who  demand  a  Sabbath  for  recreat.on  for 
amusement  for  hard  workers,  say  open  the  Zoological  Gardens 
and  museums.     If  these,  why  not  the  shows,  theatres  and  beer- 
gardens  P     If  these  can  be  allowed  to  make  money,  why  cannot 
the  stores,  the  markets,  the  factories  be  open?     If  these  are  .// 
open,  then  that  working-class,  which  in  your  demand  were  rep- 
resented as  exhausted  by  six  days'  work,  and  needing  recreation, 
v-ll  be  requ.red  to  work  seven  days  (or  lose  their  bread),  and 
they  wdl  see  neither  rest  nor  recreation.     Again,  parents  who 
chensh  the  Sabbath  as  a  day  of  holy  resting  desire  to  bring 
the.r  chddren  up  so  to  regard  it;  but  if  the  barriers  which  surt 
round  the  Sabbath  are  cast  down,  and  the  day  is  made  exactly 
hke  other  days,  there  will  be  no  quiet  at  home  in  which  to 
.nstruct  the  children.     As  they  pass  along  the  streets  to  church 
they  see  examples  which  their  parents  believe  to  be  pernicious- 
the:r  very  church  service  is  invaded  with  din;  the  individual' 
nght  of  the  parent  to  train  up  his  child  in  accordance  with  his 
own  conscience  is  interfered  with.     You  abhor  swearing-  sun- 
pose  it  were  legal  for  a  man  to  stand  by  the  hour  at  your"  gat' 
and  fill  the  cars  ofyour  boys  with  proCanity?"  '' 

"I  don't  go  so  far  as  you  think  I  do  about  the  Sabbath."  said 
Mr.  Cam     "I  don't  hold  that  any  one  should  be  allowed  to 
disturb  his  neighbor.     Parson  can't  make  me  go  to  church,  and 
I  ought  not  to  claim  a  right  (o  di.sturb  parson's  Sunday     As  to 
the  Sunday  shows  and  excursions,  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I'd 
go  or  take  my  children." 
"  Why  not  ?     You  don't  think  them  wrong,  surely  ?  " 
"No.  not  in  themselves,  but  in  the  way  they  are  conducted 
If  you  nonce  in  the  pane  ^  they  generally  end  in  a  row  :  there 
.«  always  a  lot  of  n.;.-     drinking  and  swearing;  and.  as  the 
r  suit  of  the  confusion,  often  an  accident.     I  always  look  for  a 
blow-up  of  some  sort  when  I  hear  of  a  big  Sunday  excursion." 


(.'    I 


li^H 


242 


77/£    CO- 


.IE    '10 ME. 


II 


"  Do  you  have  that  feeling  about  large  school,  church  or 
trades'  excursions  on  other  days  of  the  week  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.     I  sometimes  go  to  them  with  my  boys." 

"Consider,  then,  Mr.  Carr,  that  yt^  r.,,.,..,oly  admit  that 
the  ucople  who  clamor  for  and  indulge  in  the  breaking  of  th« 
Fourth  Coinmandnient  are  the  noisy,  dangerous,  law-breaking 
class;  wiiile  the  observers  of  the  command  are  the  law-abiding, 
orderly,  respectable  people :  does  not  that  speak  pretty  well  for 
the  command,  and  for  the  virtue  of  keeping  it  intact?" 

"  Now  see  here.  Miss  Sophronia,"  said  Mr.  Carr,  with  a  fine 
appearance  of  liberality,  "  I'll  take  that  command  in  as  a  part  of 
morals :  there's  as  much  morals  as  religion  in  it,  and  I  hold  to 
morals." 

I  made  no  remark  about  the  connection  of  morals  and  religion, 
but  passed  on  to  the  next  command : 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  Fifth :  'Honor  thy  father  and  thy 
mother—? ' " 

"  That's  morals,  sound  morals,  and  the  voice  of  Nature." 

"  But  without  the  enlightening  influence  of  the  Bible,  it  seems 
to  me  that  this  voice  of  Nature  often  dies  away,  not  only  in 
solitary  individuals,  l.i?  in  whoie  natic  ,  and  those  most  widely 
removed  in  race  and  situation.  In  India,  Alaska,  and  the  di.stant 
islands,  I  find  that  parent-s  make  a  practice  of  murdcrin;.;  their 
children,  and  children  m  turn  make  :.  practice  oi  murdering 
their  sick  or  aged  parents,  casting  them  out  to  the  sea,  to  >t<ir- 
vAtion,  or  to  wild  animals.  I  nev.?r  yv.  heard  of  a  Chri.stian 
man,  or  even  of  one  nominally  j-ofessor  and  respecter  of 
religion,  v.ho  knocked  down  his  jthe  ir  refused  to  support 
his  aged  parents,  or  to  care  for  his  sick  father ;  wliile  dcspiscrs 
of  religion  are  often  arraigned  for  these  crimes.  If  you  dissever 
religion  from  this  law,  you  will  soon  find  it  disregarded.  Also 
you  will  note  that  nations  ignorant  of  the  Bible  lack  that  general 
respect  for  the  parental  tie,  this  enforcing  of  the  mutual  rights 


RELIGION  IN  THE   HOME.  «^g 

Of  parents  and  children,  known  to  Christian  laws.  Take  the  next 
command : '  Thou  shalt  not  kill.'  Consider  statistics :  are  murders 
more  or  less  common  in  Christian  lands  than  in  others?" 

"Oh.  there  are  not  an  hundreth  part  so  many  in  the  so-calied 
Christian  lands,"  said  Mr.  Carr. 

"The  so-called  Christian  lands,"  I  said,  "are  lands  where  the 
divinity  of  Christ  is  generally  recognised,  where  God  is  acknowl- 
edged  where  his  Book  of  Laws  is  '    own.  and  where  there  are 
enough  religious  people  to  give  a  (one  to  public  opinion      In 
thes.  lands  you  .ay  there  are  not  one  per  cent,  of  the  murders 
m  other  lands;  it  seems  to  me  then  that  in  that  admission  there 
IS  a  small  showing  of  morals  where  there  is  no  religion       I 
might  question  i.',  where  Biblical  religion  is  unknown,  morals  in 
any  true  sense  ar=  not  also  unknown.     If  that  is  so,  in  holding 
as  i  .:,  say  tc  morals,  and  not  to  religion,  you  hold  to  one  thing 
rejectinc  another  with  which  it  is  inseparably  connected :  you' 
admit  ajc  tree  and  deny  its  root.     Take  the  statistics  of  nom- 
mally  Chnstir.      ountries:  what  propoition  is  there  between  the 
decrease  rf  mu.    .rs  and  the  general  diffusion  of  the  Bible  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  fact  too  v/ell  known  to  question,"  said  Mr.  Carr 
"that  as  Bible  religion  increases  among  a  people,  murder 
decreases." 

I  was  not  ready  to  take  advantage  of  this  admission,  so  I  said- 
"Well,  nov/,  what  do  you  think  of  polygamy  and  of  divorce  ?" 

"I  abhor  them  from  my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Carr,  "as  th.^  ruin  of 
the  family  tie,  and  .f  (hmily  life;  and  therefore  .  root  of  de- 
struction tc  th  state.  States,  Miss  Sophrona,  begin  in  families', 
where  the  family  is  weak  or  impure,  the  state  will  be  weak  and 
.npurc.  There  are  no  two  more  ruinous,  outrageous  and  dan- 
gerous  doctrines  at  the  present  day  ,  ::aa  those  of  Polygamy  and 


Free  Lov< 


■^n. 


by  any 


u 


indeed," 

ipholder  of  the  religion  of  Jesus 


said  I;  "and  did  you  ever  hear  these  upheld 


ever 

Christ  ?    Have  not  the 


.tr't 


tx 


m 


wm 


lit  ^mii 
111  ifii    I 


244 


TJIE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


Mormon  Polygamists  gol  a  Bible  of  their  own?  and  are  not  the 
advocates  of  Free  Love  howling  their  loudest  against  the 
Christian  religion  and  the  word  of  God?  If  you  hold  the 
Family  Life  dear  as  your  own  soul,  who  inaugurated  that  life 
but  the  God  whom  you  ignore?  If  you  consider  the  sanctity 
of  the  family  indispensable  to  your  own  happiness  and  to  the 
stability  of  the  state,  where  is  its  bulwark  but  in  the  word 
of  God  ?  where  is  its  defence  but  in  laws  which  take  their 
rise  from  that  word?  Lands  where  there  are  no  Bibles  are 
lands  of  polygamy  and  divorce,  and  of  no  marriage  relations. 
You  will  find  Turkey,  and  India,  and  Siam,  and  other  heathen 
lands,  full  of  Harems;  you  may  look  to  lands  of  Bibles  for 
virtuous  mothers  and  wife-loving  husbands.  Take  again  the 
relation  between  a  general  knowledge  of  the  Bible  and  the 
personal  virtue  of  the  citizens :  you  must  admit  from  known 
figures  that  they  are  in  direct  proportion.  Just  in  proportion 
as  a  land  is  a  land  of  religion,  it  is  a  land  of  Homes.  The 
Home  is  founded  by  God,  built  up  by  his  worship,  garrisoned 
by  Biblical  religion.  Show  me  a  Free  Lovist,  or  a  Polygamist, 
who  takes  the  Bible  for  his  guide,  and  Jesus  Christ  for  his 
Lord." 

"  Really,  I  don't  suppose  that  there  is  such  a  one." 

"Then,  do  you  not  see,  that  in  rejecting  God  and  his  religion, 
you  reject  the  foundation  and  assurance  of  Home  ?  " 

"  But,  Miss  Sophronia,  I  do  not  reject  or  ignore  God.  I 
regard  him  as  the  fountain  of  morals.  I  suppose  that  there  is 
a  God  who  made  everything,  who  maintains  everything,  and 
has  a  general  rule  over  everything.  I  cannot  see  _any  other 
reasonable  explanation  of  things." 

"Then,  in  your  view,  there  is  a  Being,  who  holds  the  general 
relations  of  a  King,  a  Ruler,  a  Father.  Where  is  there  a  king 
who  has  no  laws  for  his  kingdom,  expects  no  sen  e,  loyalty  or 
recognition  from  his  subjects,  and  has  no  order,  no  appoint 


!'l 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 


245 


mcnts,  no  state  in  his   household?     Only  a  truly  great  and 
reasonable  Being  could  create,  maintain  and  rule  as  you  admit. 
But  such  a  Being  must  necessarily  have  formulated  some  laws 
for  his  kingdom ;  must  make  some  demands  in  behalf  of  his 
own  honor;    he   could   not   foster   ignorance,    ingratitude   and 
anarchy  in  his  subjects.     The  Bible  instructs  us  how  we  may 
serve  this  Being  in  a  method  agreeable  to  his  will.     Such  a 
Being  must  have  been  as  reasonable  as  earthly  sovereigns,  and 
have  perpetuated   some   code   of  laws   and   directions  for  his 
dominions.     Among  all  the  books  which  claim  to  be  Divine 
and   the   formulation   of  such   directions,   only   the   Bible,   as 
judged  by  its  effects  among  men  in  promoting  their  happiness, 
virtue  and  well-being,  is  worthy  of  our   credence,  that  approves 
its  origin  by  being  able  to  secure  its  end.      Biblical  religion  is 
the  serving  and  esteeming  God  in  a  manner  agreeable  to  his 
expressed  will.     Now  if  you  accept  the  God  and  reject  religion, 
you  admit  yourself  a  rebel  and  virtually  an  anarchist,  at  once! 
1  low  would  such  a  proceeding  work  in  our  civil  relations  ?  " 

"Why,  Miss  Sophronia,"  .said  Mr.  Carr,  "you  are  drawing 
the  lines  pretty  tight." 

"  Mr.  Carr,  did  you  not  .say  that  the  state  begins  in  the 
Family,  and  that  as  the  Family  is  the  state  will  be  ?  " 
"  Yes,  I  did,  Miss  Sophronia ;  and  that  I  stand  to." 
"And  did  you  not  also  admit,  from  knowledge  of  statistics, 
that  those  states  are  stronger,  purer,  more  thriving  and  hon- 
ored, better  every  way,  where  there  is  Christianity  and  the 
Bible?" 

"  Well,  yes ;  that's  a  fact,  tod." 

"  Then,  where  is  the  point  where  the  family,  not  needing  in 
itself  religion  or  the  Bible,  must  begin  to  receive  them  for  the 
good  of  the  state?  If  the  state  is  built  up  by  the  diffusion  of 
religious  light,  is  it  not  that  that  light  is  held  in  the  families 
of  the  citizens  ?     You  cannot  imagine  a  state  where  the  families 


.h\ 

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246 


TJ/£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


rejected  religion,  avowing,  as  a  state,  a  religion  and  maintaining 
itself  on  Biblical  authority.  This  advantage  of  Biblical  Re- 
ligion in  the  state  is  a  thing  of  the  Homes.  In  th'^se  homes 
public  opinion  is  manufactured,  and  legislators  are  nourished, 
and  an  executive  is  trained  up.  If  you  reject  religion  for  your 
Home,  you  must,  as  far  as  you  are  able  to  do  so,  reject  it  for 
your  state,  and  if  you  think  the  state  needs  it  and  thrives  by  it, 
then  you  should,  out  of  loyalty,  if  from  no  other  reason,  cultivate 
it  in  your  Home.  You  said  the  state  is  ruined  in  the  ruin  of  the 
Family.  If  Religion  is  good  for  the  state,  it  is  good  for  the 
Family.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  that  just  as  an  increase  of 
Biblical  religiousness  in  the  state  decreases  vice,  murders, 
thefts,  so  an  increase  of  religious  opinion  in  the  Family  will 
decrease  the  chance  of  any  of  its  members  being  murderers,  or 
thieves,  or  rioters?  All  the  criminals  were  somebody's  son.s 
and  came  out  of  Families,  and  if  the  parents  had  maintained 
Family  Piety,  by  your  own  statistical  statement,  they  would 
have  reduced  by  ninety-nine  per  cent,  the  likelihood  of  thcii 
children  being  criminals.  You  ought  to  cultivate  Family 
Religion  for  the  mere  sake  of  making  it  highly  improbable  that 
any  of  your  promising  children  should  ever  be  criminals;  for, 
as  you  have  yourself  admitted,  morals  and  religion  seem  to  be 
inseparable." 

"  Upon  my  word,  it  does  look  that  way,"  said  Mr.  Carr,  witli 
an  an.xious  glance  to  his  boys  who  were  rolling  on  the  grass, 

"I  heard  that  when  you  livcii  in  the  next  county,  you  had 
served  as  a  juror  more  than  any  man  in  the  county." 

"  So  I  had.  It  became  a  real  fcurden  to  me.  I  tell  you,  Miss 
Sophronia,  it  is  hard  to  .sit  as  a  juror  when  a  man  is  up  for 
murder,  or  I'kely  to  get  twenty  j-cars  in  the  penitentiary." 

"  Well,  Mr.  C.irr,  in  those  trials,  for  all  kinds  of  crimes,  which 
you  attended,  were  the  accused  persons  mt'n  who  were  esteemed 
religious,  professed  Bible  piety,  or  advocated  the  Bible  as  a  rule 
of  living?" 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 


247 


"Upon  my  word,  ma'am,  I  can't  remember  one  that  was. 
Now  that  never  occurred  to  me  before." 

"  This,  then,  is  another  reason  for  maintaining  reh'gion  in  your 
family;  out  of  religious  families  the  criminal  dock  is  not  filled 
Were  you  not  for  five  years  overseer  of  the  poor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was.     I'm  glad  I'm  out  of  that  business." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  whether  you  found,  among  your  paupers 
generally,  members  of  Christian  churches,  readers  of  the  Bible, 
regular  attendants  on  divine  worship— what  arc  called  religious 
people  ?  " 

"  Bless  my  life,  no !  They  were  usually  a  hard  set.  They  were 
many  of  them  drunkards,  or  had  always  been  incorrigibly 
lazy  and  dirty;  or  had  trained  up  roughly  a  lot  of  rowdy,  ill- 
bchaved  children,  who  would  not  or  could  not  help  the  old 
folk-s.  I  only  remember  one  really  Christian  pauper.  She  was 
a  good  old  woman,  but  she  was  not  long  in  the  almshouse:  the 
parson's  wife  got  after  her,  and  took  her  away  for  the  church  to 
keep." 

"Another  argument  for  cultivating  religion  in  your  family. 
Cnristian  households  do  not  furnish  the  paupers;  if  they  are  not 
rich,  they  arc  not  beggars.  David  says :  '  I  have  nov  or  seen  the 
righteous  forsaken,  or  his  seed  begging  bread.'  Remember  that, 
my  neighbor,  in  behalf  of  your  children  and  grandchildren. 
Rut  you  mentioned  the  unfilial  conduct  of  these  paupers'  children. 
When  you  admit  (iod  as  a  universal  Father,  and  so  )  our  Father, 
and  yet  give  him  no  filial  reverence,  are  you  not  setting  your 
children  a  poor  cvample  of  fither-loving  and  honoring?  God 
.says:  '  If  I  be  a  I^xther  where  is  mine  honor,  and  if  I  be  a 
Master  where  is  my  fear  ?  '  Now  only  one  question  more.  You 
1  now  this  county  well.  Setting  aside  a  few  rich  and  notorious 
men,  who  have  gained  wealth  by  speculations  and  extortions,  and 
wild,  unju:stinabic  means,  arc  not  the  well-to-do  men,  the  tidy 
fortunes,  the  comfortable  little  properties,  made  by  diligence, 


\\ 


II 


V 


'I.  i 


218 


r//£:  COMPLETE  HOME. 


fli™ 


I 


honesty  and  economy,  in  the  hands  of  the  reh'gious  people? 
Ihosc  who  arc  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  who  arc  in  rags  and 
debt,  and  on  the  verge  of  pauperism  in  every  slack  time,  are  the 
men  who  ignore  religion,  reject  the  Bible,  despise  the  Sabbath. 
Ihe  steady  church-goers,  the  decent,  religious  men,  are  the  self- 
sustaining,  honcHt,  free-from-debt  men:  is  it  nor  so?" 
"  Well,  yes.  Miss  Sophronia,  Y\\  admit  that,  for  it  is  so." 
"  I  hen  thi'i  is  another  reason  for  your  maintaining,  in  your 
family,  religion  and  Bible  rules;  for  these  are  in  the  way  of  thrift, 
of  competence,   of    honesty,    of  independence,    of  n^ally   and 
righteously  getting  on  in  the  world:  is  this  not  so?     Don't  you 
owe  your  children  I-am'Iy  Piety?     Docs  not  their  future  honor 
and  success  demand  it  of  you  ?     \    '^n  example  to  your  children, 
should  you  not  maintain  religion  .^-   iTomo?     As  a  citizen,  do 
you  not  owe  such  an  upi.o;  un-  of  ivligion  to  the  good  of  the 
state  ? " 

Mr.  Carr  rose.  "  Perhaps,  Miss  Sophronia,  if  I  had  not  kept 
pretty  clear  of  the  parsons,  and  of  the  Bible,  I  might  have  had 
some  of  these  things  set  out  in  this  light  before.  I  shall  study 
this  matter  up,  I  can  tell  you,  and  see  where  it  conies  out." 
So  .saying  he  called  his  boys,  and  said  "  good-evening." 

VVh  It  is  more  important  in  a  Family  than  Religion  ?  The 
security,  the  per|)etuity  of  the  Home,  demands  it.  If  the  I  lomc 
ift  not  to  be  invaded  by  crimes,  by  the  anguish  of  children 
departing  into  ways  of  vice— if  it  is  not  to  breed  dishonesty, 
unthi  ift  and  paup.-rism— it  should  be  garrisoned  by  Family  Faith, 
by  Piety.  If  I  wore  not  a  religious  person,  but  merely  a  careful, 
common-sense  observer  of  affairs  and  a  student  of  statistics,  I 
should  hold  thi.s  opinion. 

When  my  nieces  Miriam  and  Helen  had  been  married  ten 
years  I  desir.d  (..  mark  the  time  by  a  Family  Gathering.  I 
invited  the  relations  for  a  dinner,  but  the  dinner  was  to  be  at 
three  o'clock,  and   I  recpiestcd  my  three  nieces,  Cousin  Ann's 


II    % 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 


249 


■y.  * 


Sara,  who  had  married  young  Winton,  Mary  Watkms.  and  two 
or  three  nmre,  to  come  about  half-past  ten,  so  as  to  spend  the 
day  with  nic. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  Hester,  when  we  were  all  quietly 
seated  together,  "  the  conversation  which  you  had  with  Miriam 
and  Helen,  before  they  were  married,  about  the  Building  of  a 
Home?  You  thought  I  was  not  particularly  interested,  but  I 
treasured  it  all.  and  I  do  not  know  of  any  instruction  which  has 
done  me  more  good.  Have  you  not  something  further  to  say 
on  the  same  subject  ?" 

"My  dear  girls,"  I  replied,  "to-day  I  feel   inclined  to  con- 
verse   with    you   on   a   theme   even    more   important,  namely 
the    Building  of  a  Home  for    Eternity;  the  projecting  of  the' 
home  which  you  rear  on  earth  into  the  future  world;  the  raising 
of  those  homes  which  you  are  framing  here  below  into  homes 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens.     It  cannot  be  that 
a  structure  so  sacred,  so  divine  in  its  origin,  so  glorious  in  its 
poss.b.hties.  as  a  Home,  finds  'its  be-all  and  its  end-all  here' 
I  told  you  long  ago  that  the  fo.mdation  of  a  Home,  its  corner- 
stone, must  be  laid  in  sound   religious  principle;  how  can  we 
better  employ  part  of  this  day  of  reunion  than  in  discussing  how 
to  cany  out  this  religious  principle  in  the  every-day  life  of  the 
Home?     The   Home   is  the  cradle  and  nursery  where  human 
immortals  begin  a  life  which  shall  last  forever;  therefore  in  the 
Home,  preparations  should  be  made  for  that  immortal   life     I 
wish  you  would  suggest  to  mc  some  reasons  for  especially  culti- 
vating  Religion  in  the  Family." 

"  If  it  is  tn-  V  said  Mary  Watkins.  "  as  we  all  believe  it  to  be 
that  Religion  is  the  highest  concern  of  man.  then  we  should 
cultivate  ,t  in  our  families,  as  the  best  thing  in  which  we  can 
•ntcrest  our  children;  also  because  our  homes  arc  worthy  of  the 
noblest  that  can  be  brought  into  them,  and  because  early  im- 
Pressions  and  home  impressions  are  usually  mure  strong  and 


'''.  Ml 


iS  4 


"'M 


m 


'I    V  i 


Ifl^^^^^H 

^^^^^^^^H 

Ti  "^    ""'-if  " 

It 


230 


T//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


lasting  than  any  others ;  while,  as  we  owe  our  children  the  very 
best  that  we  can  do  for  them,  we  should  not,  while  trying 
to  prepare  them  for  this  earthly  life,  which  may  end  at  any 
moment,  fail  to  prepare  them  for  the  life  which  shall  never  end." 

"  V  religion,  or  true  piety,  is  the  pervading  spirit  of  the 
Home,"  remarked  Miriam,  "  then  we  are  relieved  of  a  gnawing 
anxiety  for  the  eternal  future  of  our  loved  ones;  I  can  imagine 
nothing  more  painful  than  for  a  wife  to  feel  that  the  husband 
whom  she  loves  may  at  any  moment  be  hurried  unprepared  into 
eternity,  or  for  a  mother  to  see  her  children  growing  up  un- 
godly: to  feel  that  after  she  has  left  this  world  they  niay  be 
living  wicked  lives,  and  dying  impenitent.  Family  piety  is 
strong  and  calm  in  a  confident  expectation  of  the  reunion  of 
dear  ones  in  the  eternal  world  ;  thus  it  takes  away  the  keenest 
sting  of  death,  and  gives  us  courage  in  the  hoar  of  separation." 

"  We  cannot  for  an  instant  think,"  said  Hester,  "that  the  soul 
going  out  of  this  world  is  lessened  in  any  of  its  powers;  that 
which  is  highest  in  it,  its  love,  must  be  rather  intensified.  How 
grand,  then,  to  think  of  Himily  ties  .strengtliened  and  perpetuated 
in  a  world  of  glory!  Family  piety,  purifying  and  elevating  the 
family  relation  here,  gives  the  earnest  of  an  eternal  reunion  of 
the  family  in  a  world  where  nothing  can  offend.  Husbands 
and  wives  are  unwilling  to  be  parted  long  in  this  world;  mothers 
arc  loath  to  have  their  children  leave  them;  how  great  an 
incentive  have  we  to  the  cultivation  of  family  piety,  giving  us 
assurance  of  a  family  forever  united,  and  forever  happy!  " 

"  Piety  is  the  finest  inheritance  which  parents  can  bestow 
upon  their  children,"  said  Sara.  "True,  grace  is  the  gift  of 
God,  yet  he  has  promised  to  bestow  it  upon  the  children  of  his 
children,  to  many  generations;  he  takes  the  w'lole  family  of  his 
followers  into  covenant;  we  do  not   find  in  the   gospels   one 


in 


stance  whore  Christ  refused  tlu-  p!oa  of  a  parent  for  a  c 


hil( 


We  may  strive  to  lay  up  fortunes  for  our  ciiildren,  and  nuy 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 


251 


fail  In  doing  so,  or  left,  they  may  be  a  temptation  and  a  curse ; 
we  may  strive  to  educate  them  well,  and  they  may  not  have 
ability  to  receive  a  thorough  education,  or  means  may  be  lack- 
ing, or,  acquired,  it  may  be  misused;  but  if  we  strive  for  the 
salvation  of  our  children,  if  we  consecrate  them  to  God,  and 
train  them  up  in  accordance  with  that  consecration,  we  are  sure 
of  reward." 

"Sara,"  I  said,  "your  parents,  with  a  large  family,  a  large 
farm,  and  often  insufficient  help,  could  plead  little  time  for 
religious  duties,  if  any  one  could  ever  make  such  a  plea.  Now 
will  you  tell  us  something  of  their  method  of  religious  training, 
for  to  them,  as  to  the  Elect  Lady,  it  could  be  written:  'I  rejoiced 
when  I  found  of  thy  children  walking  in  the  truth.' " 

"  Well,"  said  Sara,  "  we  never  sat  down  to  the  table  without  a 
blessing  being  asked ;  always  as  soon  as  the  breakfast  was  ended, 
chairs  were  drawn  back  fiom  the  table,  and  father  took  the  Bible 
for  prayers;  no  hurry  of  work  interfered  with  family  worship; 
all  being  together,  servants  and  children,  when  breakfast  was 
ended,  no  one  need  be  waited  for,  or  be  absent.  Father  never 
made  very  long  prrvvers,  but  he  saw  to  it  that  we  were  attentive; 
he  was  apt  to  ask  some  question  while  he  was  reading,  which 
we  must  be  alert  to  an.swer;  this  kept  us  from  dreaming  during 
prayer-time.  As  soon  as  tea  was  ovor  we  had  c\'cning  prayers, 
a  little  shorter  perhaps  than  in  the  morning;  so,  you  sec,  even 
as  babies  in  arms,  we  were  present  at  worshij),  and  never  knew 
what  it  w;"'  to  be  without  it.  We  were  always  taken  to  c'.urch, 
even  as  very  little  children ;  the  habit  formed  of  quiet  at  prayers 
helped  us  to  be  quiet  there;  from  being  in  church  and  keening 
quiet,  we  soon  learned  to  hear  and  understand  nomething  that 
was  said  or  done ;  at  home  fatiier  asked  us  for  the  text,  ques- 
tionjd  us  of  what  we  could  remember,  and  himself  explained 
and  repeated  something  that  had  been  said.  He  never  aJloweci 
any  sharp  or  unkind  criticisms  of  the  preacher;  even  wlien  mrt 


!■>, 


'm 


y 


252 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


:i  111  -^k 


especially  pleased  himself,  he  would  not  permit  any  carping. 
He  used  to  say:  '  Don't  quarrel  with  the  dish  in  which  you  get 
the  bread  of  life,'  and  he  frequently  quoted  the  passage:  'Touch 
not  mine  anointed,  and  do  my  prophets  no  harm.'  I  know 
once  our  hired  man  said :  '  That  was  a  mighty  poor  sermon  to- 
day,' and  father  retorted :  '  Poor  or  not,  Thomas,  if  you'll  live 
vp  to  it  this  week,  you'll  make  an  astonishing  improvement  on 
your  past.' 

"  Wc  were  required  to  be  orderly  on  the  Sabbath,  and  to  read 
only  Sabbath  books;  but  we  were  well  supplied  with  these,  and 
could  read  them  on  the  porch,  or  in  a  tree,  in  the  barn  or  gar- 
den, as  we  liked,  if  we  would  not  get  into  a  frolic  or  foolish  talk. 
We  had  always  to  learn  some  verses  from  the  Bible  on  Sunday, 
and  read  a  chapter,  and  repeat  its  substance,  and  after  tea, 
mother  always  instructed  us  from  the  Bible  for  an  hour,  and 
then  we  read  a  few  chapters,  verse  about,  while  father  explained 
them  to  us.  We  were  encouraged  to  amuse  ourselves  asking 
each  other  hru'd  questions,  capping  verses,  making  or  decipher- 
ing scriptural  enigmas,  all  of  which  increased  our  acquaintance 
with  the  Bible.  When  we  did  anything  wrong,  Bible  authority 
was  appealed  to,  to  condemn  it ;  if  we  proposed  any  course 
which  our  parents  did  not  approve,  they  based  their  disapproval 
on  the  Scripitiwcs  :  they  .squared  their  own  conduct  on  the  Bible, 
and  we  saw  dearly  that  they  only  wished  us  to  walk  in  the  way 
where  they  went  themselves,  and  that  in  pressing  piety  upon  us, 
they  offered  thus  that  which  themselves  thought  most  worth  the 
Ikivji:^.  They  considered  us  as  children  of  God,  because  them- 
sulvcs  were  God's  children,  and  they  required  us  to  walk  worthy 
of  that  calling  before  we  liad  in  our  own  right  made  any  public 
profession  thereof.  Our  mother,  no  matter  how  tired  or  hurried 
she  might  be,  always  took  us  to  bed,  until  we  were  eight  years 
old,  heard  u°  «:aj'  our  p-rpj-cr-  reverently,  and  repeated  to  us  a 
verse  of  Scripture.     When  we  were  old  enough  to  go  to  bed  by 


■i-ft. 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 


253 


ourselves,  as  we  kissed  mother  good-night,  she  almost  always 
said  :  '  Do  not  neglect  your  prayers,  and  think  while  you  pray.' 
We  were  always  carefully  kept  from  irreligious  companions,  and 
from  books  which  were  in  any  way  hostile  to  piety,  and  we  were 
taught  to  reverence  good  people  because  they  were  loved  of 
God.  In  fact,  our  Home  Life  was  a  Religious  Life :  piety  was  as 
natural  to  our  home  as  its  food  or  its  labors ;  we  grew  into  it, 
because  we  were  trained  in  it.  just  as  the  trees  in  the  orchard 
grow  into  good  fruit-bearing,  because  they  had  been  planted, 
grafted,  pruned,  cultivated,  cared  for,  all  with  a  view  to  good 
fruit-bearing.  I  never  heard  any  one  question  the  quality  of  the 
fruit,  because  it  was  a  product  of  this  cultivating,  and  had  not 
developed  itself  without  any  help  or  attention." 

"  Indeed,  Sara."  said  Helen,  "  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for 
such  a  plain,  simple  statement  of  your  mother's  religious  training 
of  her  family;  it  makes  things  seem  clearer  and  easier  to  me."  ' 
"  We  may  also,"  said  Hester,  "  learn  or  take  warning  by  the 
converse.     I  visited  once  in  a  fimily  where  the  parents  were 
church-members,  but  living  among  worldly  people,  and  more 
and  more  in  a  worldly  way,  they  retained  very  few  or  no  prac- 
tices of  piety.     They  never  had  a  blessing  at  table,  never  family 
prayer;  they  went  to  church  or  not,  just  as  it  happened.     The 
mother  sent  the  nurse  to  take  the  children  to  bed,  so  that  they 
hardly  heard  of  saying  their  prayers.     If  their  mother  on  .Sun- 
day bestirred  herself  to  tell  them  a  Bible  story,  or  that  God 
made  them,  or  that  Adam  was  the  first  man,  it  was  as  much 
religious  instruction  as  ever  they  got.     If  the  parents  went  to 
church,  the  children  were  left  at  home,  for  their  mother  .said  it 
was  too  much  trouble  to  get  them  ready,  and  their  father  .said 
they  distracted  him  by  being  uneasy:  besides  their  parents  con- 
sidered going  to  Sunday-school—which  they  did  irregularly— 
was  quite  rolirfinh  enough  for  a  Sunrhy ;  therefore,  if  the  parents 
were  in  the  family  pew,  between  them,  where  their  children 
should  have  been,  stretched  a  vacuum,  which  God  abhors." 


ir 


ite^ 

"    ""'"'""aHBfiai^B 

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1 

iiil  ^'tjl 

•if!*    H. 


254 


THE   COMPLETE   HOME. 


\i  m\ 


"  I'm  afraid,"  said  Helen,  "  that  some  of  my  training  has  been 
like  that,  though  I  trust  not  quite  so  deplorable.  However  I 
resolve  to  do  better;  indeed,  I  have  often  so  resolved,  but  when 
I  get  the  children  about  me  on  Sunday  to  give  them  a  little 
instruction,  they  are  so  restless,  and  make  such  insane  answers, 
that  as  often  as  anything  I  end  by  getting  provoked.  Imagine 
Phil,  after  I  have  taught  him  this  two  years  that  God  made  him, 
when  I  asked  the  question,  replying,  gravely,  '  I  guess  the  Presi- 
dent ; '  or  insi-sting  upon  stopping  all  instruction  while  he,  during 
the  story  of  The  Fall,  investigated  rc'/^  Adam  and  Eve,  shut  out 
at  the  gate,  '  did  not  climb  over  the  fence,'  or  zvhy  Adam  called 
a  beast  such  a  name  as  a  Kangaroo :  I  said,  in  despair,  that  he 
did  not  call  it  a  Kangaroo  ;  then  says  Phil,  "  That  ain't  its  name, 
and  I  shall  always  call  it  a  hopper; '  and  then  off  go  Tom  and 
Phil  on  a  dispute  whether  the  term  hopper  is  not  pre-empted  by 
a  ^grasshopper,  and  thus  ends  «y  talk.  Hester,  you  ought  to 
have  them ;  you  know  how  to  deal  with  children,  and  really 
I  don't," 

We  none  of  us  could  help  laughing  at  poor  Helen's  discomfi- 
t  jre,  and  really,  as  to  her  children,  I  think  with  Hannah  that  they 
are  the  ''  most  masterful  mischiefs  that  ever  were  borp  "  I  told 
Hester  one  day  that  "  the  children  seemed  to  have  all  the  decis- 
ion which  their  mother  lacked."  She  said  that  was  because 
their  mother  had  never  shown  any  decision  in  her  government, 
and  so  had  encouraged  insubordination. 

"  However,"  said  Helen,  "  I  did  not  intend,  by  the  narration 
of  m)'  difficulties,  to  interrupt  our  conversation  on  Religion  in 
the  Family,  for  it  is  a  question  which  I  am  sure  I  need  to  hear 
discussed.  Aunt  Sophronia,  you  have  said  little  as  yet  on  the 
subject:  give  us  some  plain  instruction." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  I  said,  "that  Sara's  account  of  Cousin  Ann's 


methoc 


rultivating  Family  Pictj'  cover 


rly  the  whole 


ground,  and  gives  us  the  picture  of  a  godly  home:  a  home 


P    J 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 


255 


which,  broken  at  last  here,  shall  not  perish,  but  shall  be  trans- 
planted to  the  skies,  to  grow  in  greater  and  greater  beauty,  as  a 
central  sun  of  a  system  around  which  revolve  the  stars  of  other 
homes,  lit  by  its  light  while  here  below.     The  fact  is,  my  chil- 
dren, that  where  there  is  any  vital  piety  in  one  or  both  the  heads 
of  a  Family,  it  must  make  itself  felt  and  prominent  in  the  Home: 
the  light  in  the  heart  shines  out  first  at  the  hearth.     If  there  is 
no  Family  Religion,  there  is  710  religion  at  all  in  the  Family;  the 
true  Christian   is  never  like  Bunyan's  Mr.  Talkative,  '  a  saint 
abroad  and  a  devil  at  home;'  nor  is  he  pious  at  church  and 
for  himself,  and  indifferent  to  the  spiritual  concerns  of  his  family; 
and  not  only  he  must  be  not  indifterent,  but  actively  interested 
in  their  salvation,  if  he  has  any  true  piety,  for  if  religion  is  any- 
thing  to  a  soul,  it  is  the  first   and  best  of  everything.     God 
setteth  the  solitary  in  famUies  that  he  may  preserve  to  himself 
a  righteous  seed  upon  the  earth;  and  if  we  do  not  serve  God  in 
our  homes,  we  contravene  the  Lord's  highest  purpose  in  Home- 
making,  while  his  tenderest  benediction  falls  on  him  of  whom 
he  can  say,  as  of  his  servant  of  old,  I  know  him  that  he  will 
command  his  children  and  his  household  after  him.     We  ought 
to  esteem  it  God's  choice  gift  to  us  that  our  families  may  be 
numbered  in  his  chosen  generation  and  royal  priesthood. 

"  '  So  boasting  not  that  they  derive  their  birth 
From  loins  enthroned  and  nobles  of  the  earth, 
Dm  higher  yet  their  proud  pretensions  rise, 
Children  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies.' 

"I  would  like  especially  to  urge  upon  you  careful  and  regular 
attendance  on  the  services  of  your  church,  both  on  Sabbath 
and  also  at  the  weekly  meetings.  Take  your  children  with  you 
to  the  weekly  meetings,  whatever  they  are.  We  form  our  habits 
in  youth,  so  do  not  let  them  grow  up  with  a  ;;ab.:  of  absenting 
themselves  fiom  ihe  gatherings  of  God's  peopl  .  We  can  find 
time  for  these  things,  if  we  will  only  endcavoriu  do  so.    You 


t 


^i 


256 


rilE    COMPLETE  1/OME. 


know,  Sara,  that  the  Wintons  were  once  for  three  years  in 
Europe.  I  heard  of  their  course  there  from  others  who  were 
abroad  at  the  same  time.  Tlicy  carefully  arranged  their  travel* 
ling  so  that  on  Sabbaths  they  should  be  where  there  was  evat^ 
gelical  preaching  in  English,  and  there  they  went  twice  to 
church;  they  always  managed  to  find  the  Wednesday  evening 
prayer-meeting,  and  attend  it  as  regularly  as  at  home  ;  they 
spent  their  Sabbaths  just  as  they  did  in  this  country,  not  'sight- 
seeing,' and  then  salving  over  conscience  by  saying  it  was 
'visiting  churches  and  cathedrals;' they  went  to  no  places  of 
amusement  which  they  would  have  judged  it  inconsistent  to 
attend  when  at  home.  A  lady  once  said  to  Mrs.  Winton  :  '  Why 
are  you  so  scrupulous  here  ?  We  always  think  we  have  a  right 
to  a  little  relnv:  ;•!;  a!  the  lines  when  we  are  abroad.' 

"  Mrs.  Wintoii  v,as  standing  by  her  dressing-table,  and  she, 
without  seeming  lo  notice  the  remark,  held  out  a  case  contain- 
ing a  valual  le  diamond  ring  and  pin,  saying :  '  I  might  have  left 
those  at  home,  I  think  ?  ' 

" '  By  no  means,'  cried  her  visitor;  '  they  are  just  as  becoming 
to  you  here  as  there ;  they  are  too  valuable  to  be  left  behind ; 
wear  them,  to  let  people  know  what  you  are,' 

" '  Jewels  do  not  make  people,'  she  replied ;  '  I  showed  you 
these  as  a  parable.  My  religion  becomes  me  as  well  abroad 
asi  at  home ;  it  was  too  valuable  to  be  left  behind.  I  will  wear 
it  as  best  I  can,  to  show  what  I  profess  to  be.' 

"After  hearing  this  story,  I  did  not  wonder  that  foreign  travel 
had  not  injured  the  consistency,  the,  simple  common-.sense,  of 
that  family." 

'  You  remind  me,"  said  Hester,  "  that  some  people  going 
abroad  strive  to  ape  foreigners,  to  seem  other  than  they  arc, 
and  to  lose,  as  far  as  possible,  their  nationality.  This  always 
vexes  my  patriotism.  I  think  this  should  suggest  to  us,  that 
God  says  that  the  citizenship  of  his  people  is  in  heaven,  and 


\m* 


fii 


ii: 


1 


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RELIGION  IN    TlfE   HOME. 


on 


57 


that  we  should,  as  far  as  we  can  below,  cultivate  the  manners 
of  our  true  city.  Let  us  rejoice  m  our  birthright,  and  teach 
our  children  to  glory  in  it." 

"I  remember,"  .said  Mary  VVatkins,  "that  our  nii  „r  in  a 
.sermon  on  Family  Piety  said,  that  wc  should,  in  setting  up  a 
new  home,  begin  by  whol  heartedly  consecrating  it  to  God ; 
and  as  children  are  born  into  that  home,  each  of  them  should 
also  be  consecrated  to  him,  so  that  our  desire  for,  and  earnest 
expectation  of,  our  child's  salvation  should  be  coexistent  with 
Its  life,  and  our  training  and  example  should  carefully  corre- 
spond to  that  desire  and  hope." 

"  Yes,"  .said  Miriam,  "  we  must  be  consistent  in  that  training: 
not   try  and  rush    toward    heaven   on    Sunday,  and   then   run 
toward  the  world  all    the  other   days   in  the  week;    half-wa) 
doings  do  not  succeed  in  business  nor  in  housekeeping,  anc' 
they  will  not  succeed  in  soul-traaiing." 

"  This,"  I  said,  "  is  the  ideal  of  a  safe  and  happy  home :  thai 
it  is  founded  in  godliness,  vocal  with  thanksgiving;  guarded  br- 
an entreated  Prayer-Hearer;  and  having  children  given  from 
their  birth  to  God,  the  parents  and  children  are  found  cheerily 
serving  the  Lord  day  by  day.  Whatever  is  good  for  the  religious 
growth  of  the  parents— Scripture  .study,  Sabbath-keeping,  benev- 
olence—will be  good  for  the  children,  and  they  should  be 
trained  to  it;  they  have  a  right  to  have  ensured  to  them  the 
blessings  which  God  gives  his  servants,  in  this  life  and  in  the 
life  to  come." 

"  It  seems,"  said  Hester,  "  that  Mr.  Carr  has  bought  n  big 
Bible,  and  every  morning  reads  a  chapter  to  his  family;  he  has 
hired  a  .seat  in  church  and  attends  regularly  with  all  his  house- 
hold, and  has  put  his  boys  in  the  Sunday-school.  Some  one 
told  him  that  they  were  glad  he  had  become  a  Christian.  He 
replied  that  he  made  no  pretensions  to  that,  but  that  he  had 
concluded  that 


li!  f':S;vB:J 


17 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


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1-25  i  1.4 


1.6 


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Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY    14580 

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258 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


the  Home,  inasmuch  as  it  was  a  safeguard  again.'u  crime  and 
pauperism,  and  an  encouragement  to  thrift  and  respectability; 
so  he  meant  to  go  as  far  as  he  could  toward  securing  it  for  his 
boys,  just  as  he  tried  to  make  them  a  tidy  patrimony,  and  pro' 
cure  for  them  a  good  ed-  cation." 

"  He  has  been  stealing  some  of  Aunt  Sophronia's  thunder," 
said  Miriam,  smiling. 

"  I  trust,"  I  said,  "  thai  the  truth  he  reads  and  hears  will  he 
blessed  to  him  until  he  really  becomes  a  Christian ;  it  speaks 
well  for  him  that  he  is  doing  the  best  that  he  knows  how  to  do. 
This  religion  which  Mr.  Carr  thinks  will  be  advantageous  for 
his  home,  must  be  possessed  by  himself  if  he  would  impress  it 
upon  his  children.  Remember,  my  dear  girls,  if  you  desire  to 
cultivate  piety  in  your  children,  you  must  have  yourself  some- 
thing better  than  a  formal,  cold,  cautious,  time-serving  sort  of 
piety.  There  are  no  keener  critics  than  the  innocent,  observant 
eyes  and  thoughtful  hearts  of  little  children;  dare,  yes,  desire,  to 
be  warm  and  enthusiastic  in  your  Christianity  if  you  would  com- 
mend it  to  your  families  as  a  thing  worth  striving  for.  Religion 
should  be  shown  forth  as  joyous,  free,  hearty,  hopeful,  if  it  would 
enchain  the  ardent  affections  of  childhood  and  youth;  from 
the  Christian  home  let — 


"  '  The  light  of  love  shine  over  all.' 

Rich  or  poor  in  its  appointments,  it  should  be  cheery  and 
kindly,  full  of  common  intercuts  and  homely  sclf-jacrifices,  and 
mutual  confidences,  and  good  order.  Nowhere  cl.'ic  should 
things  be  more  honestly  what  they  .seem.  It  is  only  by 
home  sentiments  that  home  can  be  made  a  place  whereto  the 
hearts  of  children  can  be  firmly  bound;  by  a  happy  and  affec- 
tionate home,  children  are  held  from  wandering.  There  is  little 
hope  of  religious  lives  for  children  who  are  allowed  to  fiiul 
their  pleasures  away  from  their  parents'  guardianship,  haunting 


RELIGION  m  TL'E  HOME. 

st.'.necrs'  ho^cs,  or  „„k„o„-„  places  of  a„,„seme„t,  staying  L 

.    aeeve„,„gs  and  coding  in  late,  nnchailcnged.     If  chirdrcn 

...  to  grow  up  godly,  they  must  have  the  shelter  ,vhich  God 

provided  for  them-their  home.     Being  ou,  ,ate  at  nigh,  lies  a. 

he  begmmng  of  nine-tenths  of  the  courses  of  ruin  „h,ch  are  on 

record.     Parents  should  insi.st  on  their  children  being  home" 

Z'l     .         ;"""'"'  """^  '■"■^"^  "■=  '■°™  '"=>'  4s  them. 
How  often  do  wo  hear  quoted  :  '  Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of 
■■berty?      Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  family  piety     The 
parent  should  honorably  face  the  fact,  that  his  position  demand, 
mcessant    kmdiy  guardianship  of  his  child;  the  child's  com 
pamons  should  be  well  known  to  the  parent;  the  home-training 
of  those,  the.r  morals,  n,anncrs,  mental  characteristics,  should 
be  well  understood,  and  their  influence  over  the  child  carefully 
noted.     If  .  .s  true  that  a  man  is  known  by  the  company  which 
be  keeps,  and  that  evil  communications  corrupt  good  u,an„ers 
can  a  parent  be  too  watchful  over  the  compa„ion,«l,ips  of  hi. 
cl..Idren?     So.  also,  the  parents'  vigilance  must  be  extended 
over  the  .mportant  matter  of  the   child's  reading    A  child 
.*ou,d  no.  be  left,  in  its  early  simplicity  and  heedlessness,  o 
choose  ,ts  own  books;  not  merely  the  kind  of  books  should  be 
re.'arded,  but  their  especial   eftlxts  on  their  young  reader,  for 
what  ,s  only  a  needed  stimulus  to  one  mind  might  be  d.mger- 
ously  exciting  to  another,  and  what  might  merely  properly 
develop   the  sympathies  of   one   child   might   make   anothc^ 
morbid.     Co„si<ler;  do  you  wan,  yonr  child  to  be  like  this 

mindf"         "'   '°"°   ""'  "''"'''    ^■°"    *"''■'   '"  >"""    ^'"'W' 

"Oh.  me,"  said  Helen,  "  wh.it  a  world  of  work  it  is  to  rear  a 
Cimily!    \Vh.it  a  buiden  of  responsibility!" 

"Consider,  my  Helen,"  I  replied.  ■•  that  nothing  i,  a  world  „f 
work  which  is  systematically  and  earnestly  carried  on,  which  i, 
begun  at  the  beginning  and  regularly  proceeded  with;  and  if 


260 


THE   COMPLEIE  HOME. 


:i 


it  were  a  world  of  work,  a  world  of  work  is  nothing  when  we 
are  training  for  eternity,  wlien  we  have  souls  in  keeping." 

"And  yet,"  said  Mary  Watkins,  "how  very  different  this 
training  thus  far  sketched  is  from  the  usual  training  of  children! 
If  this  is  the  true  way  to  bring  children  up,  then  most  children 
must  be  merely  allowed  to  come  tip!' 

And  yet  is  not  this  the  model  of  the  Family  life,  as  God 
designs  it  ?  The  Bible  is  the  guide-book,  the  family  code  of  laws, 
and  Christ  is  the  desired  Mode!  for  all,  and  he  stands  illuminat- 
ing parents  and  children,  and  children's  children: 

"As  the  reflection  of  a  light 
Between  two  l)uini.she<l  mirrors  gleams, 

Or  lamps  upon  a  bridge  at  night, 

Stretch  on  and  on  before  the  sight. 
Till  the  long  vista  endless  stems." 

"There  is  another  thing  which  we  must  not  forget,"  re- 
marked Hester :  "  God  sets  servants  and  dependents  in  the 
religious  keeping  of  the  Heads  of  Families.  No  home  can 
shut    up   itself  in    secret   isolation;    its   circle  fore'  idens; 

the  servants,  the  neighbors,  the  guests,  all  feel  it.  .ending 
influence.  Religion  in  the  Family  sheds  its  beneficent  light 
on  all  the  homes  near — as  Shakespeare  says : 

"  •  How  far  yon  little  candle  sheds  \^9  ray  ? 
So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world.'  " 

"There  is  one  thing  more  which  I  wish  to  suggest,"  said 
Sara.  "Children  who  feel  that  they  are  governed  in  accord- 
ance with  God's  laws,  that  their  parents  are  in  their  training 
responsible  to  a  higher  Power,  and  looking  toward  the  highest 
good,  yield  the  readiest  obedience.  Children  so  brought  up 
are  more  thoughtful,  have  more  careful  consciences,  look  more 
narrowly  toward  the  consequences  of  their  acts.  This  reverence 
fVir  law,  as  a  thinf  divine  secures  them  from  rrsanv  of  th" 
crimes  of  youth." 


iffcrent  this 
of  children ! 
ost  children 


RELIGION  IN  THE  HOME. 


2G1 


Martha  came  now  to  tell  us  our  other  guests  were  arriving 
As  we  rose.  Hester  quoted  from  her  beloved  Plato- 

'"And  thus  the  tale  has  been  told,  and  may-be  for  our  salva- 
tion, If  we  are  obedient  to  the  word  spoken.     Wherefore    my 
counsel  is,  that  .c   hold   f.st   the  heavenly  way,  and   follow 
after  just.ce  and  virtue  always,  considering  that  the  soul  is  im- 
mortal and  able  to  endure  every  sort  of  good  and  every  sort 
ofevd.     Thus  shall  we  live,  dear  to  one  another  and  to  Heaven 
both  while  remaining  here,  and  when  like  conquerors  in  the 
games  we  receive  our  reward.' " 


^f     , 


k    \ 


Ji  .: 


Sli 


CHAPTER   XL 

HOSPITALITY  IN  THE   HOME. 


AUNT     SOPHRONIA     TELLS 


HOW     TO     ENTERTAIN     FRIENDS     AND 
STRANGERS. 


WAS  working  in  my  p^arden  one  day  among  my  roses, 
Q2J]     ^"^  ^  ^^'^^  thinking  of  the  very  many  varieties  of  tiiis 
^^     queen  of  flowers.     I  did  not  particularly  notice  by  what 
b       chain  of  association  and  subtilely  linked  thoughts  my 
mind  passed  on  to  the  infinite  varieties  that  there  are  in  the 
exercise  of  hospitality,  that  queen  of  social  virtues.     Nearly  all 
these  varieties  I  have  seen  exercised,  even  in  this  one  town  and 
its  surroundings.     There  is  ostentatious  hospitality,  for  instance. 
One  of  our  ladies  here  says,  that  she  would  not  entertain  com- 
pany at  all,  unless  she  could  do  it  handsomely:  having  a  hand- 
some guest-chamber,  elegant  table-furniture,  plenty  of  servants 
and  stylish  meals.     Now,  of  course,  she  entertains  for  the  sake 
of  herself,  of  gratifying  her  own  vanity ;  not  for  the  good  of 
her  guest.     I  told  her  so  one  day.     She  said:  "Of  course  her 
guest  had  the  benefit  of  all  the  nice  things."     That  is  true.     But 
still  if  she  had  not  these  splendors,  she  would  refuse  a  hos- 
pitality which  her  guest  might  need.     There  again  is  spasmodic 
hospitality:  that  is  Mrs.  Black's  variety.     She  will  branch  out 
once  or  twice  a  year  into  a  fine,  showy  party,  which  the  family 
have  been  tired  out  preparing  for,  or  for  sake  of  which  the 
family  table  has  been  scrimped  for  weeks  previously.     To  this 
gay  entertainment  Mrs.  Black  invites  all  her  friends.     For  it  she 

exhausts  all  her  energies;  and  durinn-  all   tho  n<«f  nf  the  '-ar 
(202) 


I  I 


FRIENDS     ANO 


HOSPITALITY  IN  THE  HOME.  jOS 

she  never  thinks  of  having  a  relative  visit  her,  asking  a  friend 
who  drop-  ,„  .0  stay  to  tea,  inviting  two  or  three  acquaintances 
or  an  afternoon,  or  a  friend  for  the  day.    But,  really,  she  and 
her  guests  get  very  httlc  gratification  out  of  this  spasmodic 
hosptahty:   ,t  .s  strained  and   burdensome.    Again  there  is 
««..«  nospi,ali,y.    I  don't  know  a  more  striking  instance  of 
that    han  Mrs.  Smalley,  Mary  Watkins'  mother.  When  m" 
Smalley  .s  expecting  guests,  she  is  in  a  state  of  wor^.  and 
flutter  for  fear  her  l,ouse  will  not  look  well  enough,  or  will  be 
ess  attracuve  than  they  expected,  or  less  fine  tha    they  a 
accustomed  to.    She  does  not  simply  arrange  the  best  she  has 
n.  the  best  way  which  she  knows,  and  then  rest  contented  •  there 
.s  no  content  al,ou.  it.    She  frets  herself  into  a  state  of  excite- 
ment  over  rooms,  bedding,  table-furniture  and  food,  and  as  soon 
as  her  guests  arrive  this  accumulated  mass  of  anxieties  falls  on 
hem  hke  an  avalanche.    She  escorts  them  to  her  spare-room  to 
lay  off  their  wraps.    She  discourses : 

"I  don't  know  as  you'll  be  able  to  turn  around  here,  this  is 
such  a  httle  bit  of  a  place.     I  tell  Smalley  it  isn't  fit  t;  invite 
-y  one  mto.    Smalley  is  so  queer    //,•  says :  ■  Why,  if  it  doe 
or  us  .t  w,l    do  for  our  friends.'     But,  la,  /  want  to  give  peol 
etter  t  an     have  myself    /',.  always  had  to  put  up  with  p 
thmgs  but  I  don't  reckon  ,.,„  have.     You  don't  c  re  to  \1 
your   hands,     I  wish   !  had    nicer   towels  to  offer  you.     I've 
aKv.,ys   been   laying  out  to  got    son,e  of  those   long,   wide 
bordered  damask-towels,   but  I   never    have.      I   ho^  you'll' 
excuse  these.      Shall  we   go  down-stairs  P      These  are  such 
narrow,  dark,  crooked  stairs  I'n,  afraid  you'll  break  your  neck 
n  t  en,.     ,  tell  Smalley  we  ought  never  to  ask  anybody  to  go 
up  them;  but,  la,  Smalley,  he  says,  'they're  all  that  wc'e  go' • 
Now  my  s,ster's  front  stairs  are  fit  to  go  on.     She  has  two  ,lir. 
n ..    er  thmgs  are  always  better  than  nnne.    I'm  afraid  ylu'H 
fi-.d  th,s  s,tt,„g.room  dose,  .ts  so  low-ceiled,  and  it's  ,00  cold 


*     " 


I 

j 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 

for  you,  of  course.  I  cannot  get  this  fire  to  act  as  it  ought; 
though  I've  worked  at  it  all  day.  Do  try  this  rocking-chair, 
though  it  is  a  poor  thing  to  offer  you,  enough  to  break  one's 
back ;  but  that  sofa  is  so  stiff,  and  hard,  and  slippery,  not  near 
so  nice  as  you're  used  to.  I'm  sorry  I  can't  make  you  more 
comfortable,  it  worries  me  nearly  to  death." 

And  so  she  goes  on:  she  is  sure  her  tea  is  poor,  not  fiist 
quality ;  she  cannot  tell  what  has  got  into  her  bread ;  the  cake 
is  not  half  as  good  as  she  wanted  it  to  be ;  the  preserves  are  not 
fit  to  offer  you ;  the  tongue  is  too  salt ;  you  will  not  make  out  a 
meal;  she  don't  expect  it  when  things  are  so  poor;  if  you  stay 
all  night,  do  excuse  the  fact  that  she  has  comforts  instead  of 
blankets  on  the  bed ;  and  the  sheets  are  too  coarse  to  offer  you, 
but  she  never  can  get  things  as  she  wants— and  so  on  indefi- 
nitely :  really  in  a  worry  herself,  and  getting  her  guests  into  a 
nervous  state  over  her  evident  anxiety,  while,  in  fact,  all  that 
she  has  is  good,  neat  and  abundant. 

What  a  contrast  to  this  is  Cousin  Ann's  common-sense  luspi- 
tality  ?  Cousin  Ann  always,  for  her  own  comfort  and  the  good  of 
her  family,  has  her  house  in  the  best  order  to  which  she  can 
attain :  there  is  neither  dust,  litter  nor  rags.  As  her  means  have 
gradually  increased,  so  she  has  increased  the  furnishings  and 
conveniences  of  her  house :  it  is  none  of  it  too  fine  to  use,  and 
it  is  all  thoroughly  comfortable.  She  means  to  entertain  her 
own  family  nicely,  and  takes  other  people  in  on  the  same  footing. 
A  thrifty  housekeeper,  her  larder  is  never  empty,  she  keeps 
jellies  and  preserves  on  hand,  and  her  cake-box  is  replenished 
with  something  nice  for  a  treat ;  her  table-linen  is  always  hand- 
somely done-up,  and  she  has  always  a  bunch  of  flowers,  or  a 
moss-plate,  or  a  growing  fern  as  a  centre-piece  for  her  table. 
Guests,  invited  or  accidental,  are  always  welcomed  heartily,  and 
without  apology;  they  find  everything  in  order;  no  one  seems 
disturbed  by  their  appearance.     If  Cousin  Ann  has  not  on  her 


reassuring  ,o  than       "''         ''."^""^' ^=™™'"g '<>  herself  ,„<, 

Ann,  i,  does  no.    Lor,. I  7":  ''"'^  ™*=^  '"  ""  C-™ 
the  fire,  are  no,  :     "  "      ™*  "-nge„,c„,,,,  for  if 

an^  .e.d,  .o  r.r  j^  rrrjr  ^^r  "-^ »-  ^"  '=■'<■ 

fe^  a  day,  an  evening,  or  a  wee  w  '"""  T  ""'  '°  ^'^^ 
"°*  n,o.e,on  in  t,;  ,a„,e It  a  Lr.^C  ^^^^^^  '"^ 
not  make  "conniniv"  „r  .1.  ^°'"''"  '^nn  does 

anxiety  to  be  ZZ  aft      7-    ''"'"'  "'*  "•=■"  ""  "«=« 
something  f„,  ,  e     ;i"'"  """^'  "^'-^here;  but  if  there  i, 

to  pare  into  the  milo^Z^TT'"'  "  ""  P""  "^  "pple, 
-hile  her  finger,,  ar..  flyin"'    Sh  ""'""'■"'  '"  «"'^'' 

happens  to  be^n,  Irnjl    ,         I ""  '^''"'  "■"  f*"*  "'hat 

or^^..nts,ora.;:r;rr-h;^^^^ 

satisfied  herself  and  t  ,I-.,  >  r  '        ''^'  "°  ^^'^"^^S'  '^ 

exercised  by  our  n.-„i«ter-.s  wife     It    f  u     '  "  '^''  ''"^ 

^^//O^.  without  grud..„..  sl,nu     .  ^^^  '^'  ^^W/...^- 

an  agent  for  a  religio,,,  societv  n  eolporteur, 

hi«  health,  a  „,is,il,„  Zet  h'T  ""'"'""  '"^^'""^ '■°' 
never  too  li,l|  or  too  „„ ,  ''°''"''  ="""  'he  house  is 

taXe  in  a  l,n|e  old,"  ^r'™  "™-  '  ""^  -"  - 
'  told  her  onee  I  i  ,;r"^^''''  '"'  '"«  hi„  like  a  king. 
e>aimsn,a,:e„„  |      'i  T"'  ''""''^ '""  *=  --„nt 

hospitality  ,vo,„d  be  "'"'  "'°"''"''  '  ^''°"W  -PPose  this 
made  the  ruestpa^.;™r'^.r'-  ''"'  ^^  -■"  that  she  Just 
she  had  on  han     ZZ     :'•'"'  """  ^'"'^^  '"'^  '"-  "ha, 

Christian  or      1  «  !  ,  "'"  "™  '"■'''™'°"'''     "-  - 

'"■*  ""^''^''''y.  and  in  direct  contrast  witb 


'2G6 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


\  \-i    ■  I, 


f|     . 


«■ 


that  is  the  selfish  hospitality  of  our  member  of  Congress.     I  do 
bcheve  that  man  never  invites  a  guest  for  a  meal,  a  day  or  a 
week,  unless  it  is  some  one  who  will  be  of  use  to  himself.     Let 
any  one  come  along,  who  will  be  of  political  service,  and  Mr.  K. 
opens  his  house ;  nothing  is  too  good ;  his  servants,  his  horse  and 
carriage,  all  he  has  are  at  his  feet.     His  wife  is  never  too  busy 
or  too  feeble  to  have  cake  and  coffee  ready  for  a  half  dozen 
politicians,  or  an  oyster-supper  for  members  of  the  bar,  or  a 
county  convention ;  but  when  did  any  poor,  sick,  or  old  relation 
or  widow  woman  without  means,  or  any  little  child,  get  hospi- 
tality from  him  ?    He  offers  what  will  come  back  to  him  in  some 
way  or  another :  he  uses  the  hospitality  which  can  be  reduced 
finally  to  a  cash  return.     When  I  was  spending  a  winter  with 
my  half-sister,  I  saw  a  sample  of  what  you  may  call  excessive 
hospitality.     She  and  her  husband  were  both  fond  of  company ; 
they  had  a  nice  house  and  a  nice  income,  but  they  taxed  both 
to  the  utmost  in  their  entertaining.     The  children  shared  the 
social  instincts  of  the  parents.     The  little  ones  had  a  fine  play- 
room, a  large  back-yard,  and  plenty  of  toys ;  and  they  brought 
in  their  little  mates  by  the  half  dozen  to  stay  all  day  Saturday, 
or  all  of  an  afternoon,  or  to  take  a  meal,  or  to  stay  all  night. 
The  older  children  had  their  friends  by  the  day,  week,  or  even 
month,  especially  if  anything  was  going  on  in  the  city  which  their 
friends  in  town  or  country  would  enjoy  seeing.     They  had  their 
charade  parties,  their  tableau.x  parties,  their  musical  evenings. 
The  parents  gave  a  party  now  and  then.     They  opened  their 
house  every  other  Friday  evening  for  a  reception,  with  simple 
refreshments ;  their  dining-room  was  a  sort  of  hotel  for  all  their 
friends ;  whoever  was  passing  at  meal-time  dropped  in ;  if  there 
was  a  convention,  or  literary  or  ecclesiastical  gathering  of  any 
kind,  they  packed  their  house  full  of  guests.     My  brother-in-law 
would   ask   business  acquaintances,  almost   strangers  even,  to 
accept  his  hospitality  for  a  week  or  so,  while  relations  came  for 


iSl"   (       \ 


i^osPirALiry  .w  the  home.  ^^^ 

sjx  months  at  a  time     t;„«„  t.u 

if  the  cook's  sister  orthe?   k     """''  ^'^"'  *'^  ---•' 
sister,  or  the  chambermaid's  cousin  or  if  f h.  k     • 

mother  were  "  out  of  ohce  fnr  .  f       .u  ^  ''"^  " 

o  .™u„e, ..  a„,  3o  .he  .,che„  a,.„s.  Ly,  rj^  ^    , 

shut  the  house  and  fled      Th  '  ^""P^  ^h^"  «l'o 

I"  bO  to  visit  them,  felt  uncomfortable  in  stpvJn,.  a 

never  went  arra in  fi,«.    i                           ""-aun.  m  staying,  and 

went  again,  though  my  sister  said  I  had  been  -,  rZx  . 

to  her.  cntertTinmrr  i,„                                                  "  ^  "^^^^  rest 

--,,a:;::,t;::zr;r— ---'-'^^^^^ 

ira\eiica  people  seems  to  widen  the  -^nlipr^  ^f        - 

vatic,  a„.  e..peHc„ce:  ^^^..^IJ^XZl^'' 

«ome  Egyptian  traveller  to  describe  to  p  '"'"^'' 

'»="      t    e„    t7;,'™"°'r""'  ^  '="'  -..Vaction  i„1 
fond  of  corpanv  bu  "  "l     '  °'  ™'=""'"'"»"-     "^"="  « 

''^"  '-  '>-™Sh  order  of  Miriam.:  her  children  a.  L^e 


'<i  ■'! 


:ii.;! 


268 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


unruly,  and  she  is  always  in  arrears  with  her  work,  instead  of 
beforehand  with  it.  She  has  improved  since  she  began  house- 
keeping, but  she  will  never  reach  the  happy  having  a  time  and 
a  place  for  everything. 

I  think  in  our  village  we  ought  all  to  know  how  to  entertain 
with  grace,  liberality  and  simplicity,  from  the  example  we  have 
had  in  Mrs.  Burr  and  Mrs.  Winton.  I  notice  that  they  do  not 
give  many  set  entertainments,  but  they  are  always  ready  and  glad 
to  have  a  friend  drop  in  unceremoniously  to  tea,  or  to  accept  an 
unexpected  invitation  heartily  given.  They  have  small,  informal 
gatherings:  a  few  friends  to  dinner  or  tea.  Mrs.' Burr  is  so 
ready  to  pick  out  strangers — young  men  come  to  begin  business, 
or  study  their  profession,  or  lonely  young  girls  come  to  teach : 
she  invites  these  for  an  evening  to  cheer  then-  up,  and  let  then-t 
feel  that  some  one  has  an  interest  in  them.  She  notices,  too,  if 
these  strangers  have  uncomfortable  boarding-places,  or  are  not 
feeling  well,  and  they  are  asked  to  her  house  for  a  few  days,  or 
for  a  week.  Indeed,  I  observe  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
chosen  friends,  the  people  whom  she  asks  to  stay  with  her  for  a 
time  are  those  who  will  receive  some  good  in  staying — people  in 
feeble  health,  or  lonely,  or  rather  poor.  That  is  the  way  to 
exercise  hospitality  so  as  to  receive  a  blessing  with  it. 

Considering  carefully  the  subject  of  hospitality,  and  observing 
how  it  is  exercised,  I  concluded  that  we  are  liable  in  it  to  many 
errors,  and  fail,  from  ignorance,  in  doing  by  it  all  the  good  we 
may  to  others,  or  getting  all  the  good  we  ought  for  ourselves. 
I  thouo-ht  it  would  not  harm  our  good  ladies  to  have  the  matter 
well  discussed,  and  I  concluded  to  call  it  up  at  our  Sewing 
Society.  I  like  to  bring  up  there  some  useful  theme  on  which 
all  are  likely  to  have  some  ideas ;  and  the  discussion  improves 
ourselves,  and  keeps  out  jarring,  unkind  or  foolish  talk.  Accord- 
ingly I  managed  to  introduce  the  subject  of  hospitality,  and  we 
talked  it  over  pretty  well,  getting  new  views  and  improving  ou; 


mm 


f  I 


HOSPITALITY  IN   THE  HOME 

•  269 

=  d  ones;  and  then  we  resolved  lo  lay  it  befor-  on,  „,;  ■  . 
>...n.e  dropped  in  aBont  an  „onr  bele  te::;;:  r:- 
le  had  to  say  about  it.     Our  minister  took  to  the  suhi,  , 
"^.ndly.and  when  he  was  established  in  his  rrmchai       '"^ 
-re  all  ,„ie.,y  busy  with  our  needles,  he  he  d  teh  •  "     " 
thing  of  this  style :  *  '"  ''°"«^- 

--■e,butitise,ear,;i::rdt:s;ro:."r°^ 
.'tuT;::ie:a:;:r:rX:r  r, '^'■"'-  •"^' "°'  ^- 

AnH   fl.     1  "'"'^"S'^'^'^-     Use  hospitality  without  ?rud-incr' 

.t    t  e  oL"  ;      °*'""*^  '■'  ""'  --'^  -New   resta;::. 
"Is      aolu         '"V""""'"'   *^  ^'-nger  within   the 
^  u?.  ^  P«  of  «>e  Jewish  household.     We  have  n„t 

only  B,bl,cal  injunetion  but   Biblieal  example:   Abnl  a^  re 
...aA,ng  three  toii-worn  travellers  passing  his  si  i' 

•IS  a  serv^ant  waited  on  h  s  friipcf-c  o„j  ,       . 

nf  T  -f        J    •  .  guests,  and  so  entertained  the  LorH 

L,f  and  e,t,.ens  of  heaven.  Rebecea,  finding  a  wayfarer  « 
.he  well,  ,„v,ted  him  and  his  train  to  abide  at  he"  fa.he,Vhou» 
-  beeame  an  ancestress  of  Chri.,t;  Lot,  sitting  in  h  1  o7 
bodom,  showed  the  hospitality  learned  of  Uncle  Abraham  ,h 
old  man  of  Gibeah  shows  kindness  to  the  wayiirerf  ,^  ^  ' 
Samuel  sets  aside  the  best  meat  for  gue,,tswho  sl.al  c  . 
him  in  the  land  of  Zuph.    The  priest  of  M  H  f  " 

Moses,  lives  forever  i^  the  annaC "I  tn"  TT'" 
old  of  Bethany  received  everlasting  life  a      ' Xo-      t"- 
.n,ng  the  Lord,  and  short  Zaeeheus  easts  a  ,o„J  sl^  owove; 
gIL     tTI    V""'  '"  -^-""^fo'  *e  P^Phet  o 
n*    ■  and  fr"   '     I"""'  "  "^  '"'"  ''"•"  '^»  Testament 
aT^     f /?.  ""■'*'  •"'"■"°"'   ""'"  S'-"   'o  hospitality 
a»d  dtey  had  .he.r  exa„,ple  from  their  Master,  for  whent^' 


i 


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young  men  'said  to  him,  Rabbi,  where  dwellest  thou?  he  replied, 
Come  and  see ;  and  they  abode  with  him  that  night.'  Now  il 
hospitahty  is  a  Christian  duty,  it  is  incumbent  upon  all  Christians, 
and  this  according  to  their  ability;  for  it  is  demanded  of  us  ac- 
cording to  what  we  have,  and  not  according  to  what  we  have  not. 
Christ  twice  fed  a  multitude  on  plain  loaves  of  barley-bread  and 
some  small  fishes ;  his  blessing  went  with  them  and  they  were 
enough.  We  do  not  read  that  the  blessing  altered  the  variety  or 
the  quality  of  this  plain  food;  it  increased  its  quantity  to  meet 
need.  We  shall  none  of  us  be  likely  to  offer  then  a  more  simple 
entertainment  than  our  Lord,  but  let  hearty  good-will  go  with  it 
and  it  will  be  accepted,  and  we  need  not  repine  because  our 
ability  is  not  greater.  The  recipients  of  our  duty  of  hospitality 
are  indicated  to  us  in  the  Scripture  :  servants  of  our  Lord,  our 
fellow-kinsmen  in  Christ;  and  then  it  is  said, '  Ye  did  it  unto  me,' 
and  we  may  entertain  angels  unawares.  Our  kindred,  our 
friends,  have  a  claim  on  our  hospitality,  and  especially  the  poor 
who  cannot  pay  it  again,  but  whose  account  remains  to  be 
settled  by  the  God  of  the  poor  at  the  resurrection  of  the  just. 
The  hospitality  of  a  home  should  not  have  a  superfluous  mag- 
nificence and  display  which  overawes  and  embarrasses  the  guest, 
making  him  feel  ill  at  ease  and  self-conscious,  while  the  hospi- 
tality itself  becomes  to  the  entertainer  a  burden  too  heav>'  to  be 
borne.  Our  hospitality  should  be  easy,  brotherly,  ready,  and 
offered  in  that  quiet  simplicity  which  gives  best  opportunity  for 
the  steady  conduct  of  our  ordinary  home-life.  The  oriental  says 
to  his  guest,  in  a  flower  of  .speech:  'All  that  I  have  is  yours; 
this  is  your  house,  command  these  servants,  do  as  you  please.' 
The  Christian  host  makes  no  such  .shallow  pretension  of 
resigning  the  helm  and  headship:  he  intend.^  to  make  his  guest 
happy,  and  to  guide  his  home  in  its  accustomed  way.  The 
Scripture  makes  him  responsibic  in  a  measure  for  the  conduct 
of  the  stranger  within  his  gates.     We  should  not  admit  to  ouf 


msPITALny  fX   7V/E   IIOMP 

families  those  wI,o  will  „„,  exhibit  to  our  children  and  serv.nt, 
«  d.screet  example;  if  through  any  ex.ge.cy  such 7   T 
an-ong  us,  the  heads  of  the  household  shou  dTx    cLr     "T 
and  ,uietl.  see  that  there  is  no  i„rri„ge™e„ro7:r  ::;,;* 

-4.  The7hr:i:!:^n:^r;rrr°?"'™ 

choice  and  sacred  ^uest-lheir  F  „T      ?  ""*'  "■"= 

no  other  guests  tor  es  tett  1      th"  ""^  •*°""'  ^"°" 
by  the  nhrisc  '.nH  „  ^'"'  S'-O'ind  is  covered 

conduct  of  Home  K^vi"'   ""°*"'"'°-.   b"'  "nflinching 

-;ane.ctuai:r:^:~:---- 

^i^c:it;r:r;:::r;::;'f  •-'-'".- ciosed  his 
o"c.  we  heard  it  sitting  „t  c  ::::z:z::z^ 

<h    racted  by  anybody's  new  bonne,.     Couldn't  you  gi.e  „ll 
yo..   sermons  ,n  that  easy,  oiT-hnnd  way,  Domine  ?  ■■ 

If  .t  has  been  such  a  good  sermon,"  said  Cousin  Ann  "th. 
next  question  is,  'how  much  will  we  profit  by  it," 
•■Im  afraid  it  will  be  like  the  rest,"  said  Mrs.  niack;  "we  ..y 

don,  put  them  m  practice.     Indeed,  Domine,  after  so  lon^  an 
"Pcncncc  you  must  l„ave  go,  done  expect  „g  us  ,Vp  f . 
thoorics  in  practice?"  lo  put  the 

'•  r^pcrience  ha.s  tau.ht  mc  that  there  will  ,some  seeds  j,row 
for  con.stant,y .see  large  harvests  gathered  on  al,  sides;  and  I 
»rn,any  seeds  are  lost,  many  must  have  thriven  " 


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mil 


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I    \ 


We  were  then  called  out  to  tea.  and  the  subject  of  hospitalitj' 
was  not  resumed ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  its  examination  has  done 
some  of  us  a  deal  of  good. 

As  to  this  exercise  of  Hospitality,  there  are  several  points 
which  I  have  settled  in  my  mind.  I  think  no  member  of  the 
Family  should  disturb  the  home  comfort  by  inviting  any  guest 
.^specially  disagreeable  to  any  other  member  of  the  Family.  I 
think  a  husband  should  not  give  invitations,  or  desire  to  enter- 
tain guests  so  freely,  as  to  be  a  tax  on  his  wife's  health,  or  to 
deprive  their  children  of  her  care.  A  wife  on  the  other  hand 
should  not  receive  so  much  company  that  she  cannot  properly 
perform  her  duties  in  her  hom^  or  that  she  exceeds  her 
husband's  means.  I  think  that  one  should  never  stint,  and 
starve,  and  vex  a  family  for  a  month  or  so,  to  launch  out  into  a 
showy  party :  the  true  hospitality  is  to  share  what  we  have 
with  a  ready  heart,  that  the  recipient  of  the  hospitality  may  not 
feel  burdened  by  it.  I  think  it  is  foolish  to  furnish  a  parlor  and 
shut  it  up  for  the  reception  of  occasional  guests,  considering  it 
too  good  for  the  use  of  the  Family  Circle,  .so  that  the  children 
feel  awkward  in  it:  our  best  things  should  be  for  our  family. 
Also,  I  think  it  is  very  foolish  to  pick  out  the  largest,  best, 
sunniest  room  in  the  house,  furnish  it  so  well  that  we  must 
pinch  other  rooms  to  make  that  nice,  and  then  keep  it  for  a 
guest-chamber,  where  five  or  six  times  in  a  year  a  few  visitors 
go  t*^  lay  off  hats  and  shawls,  and  where  some  guest  stays, 
perhaps,  five  or  six  weeks  out  of  the  fifty-two;  all  the  rest  of  the 
year  these  best  rooms  are  shut  up  nd  virtually  wasted.  Now, 
I  think,  the  best  bed-room  in  the  house  should  be  the  molhcrs 
room,  large  enough  to  bring  into  it  a  sick  child.  The  niother's 
room  should  be  airy  and  healthful,  because  on  the  health  of 
tiie  parents  the  .stability  and  comfort  of  the  family  depend.  This 
'•  mother's  room "  should  be  cheerful,  so  tnat  the  children 
should  like  to  go  there  and  should  have  pleasant  recollections  of 
it  as  a  gathering-place.     Let  it  be  as  well  furnished  as  can  be 


HOSPITALITY  m  THE  HOME. 

fo.  .no,„c.3  .„o.  she.,; ;  :tr:'"'°r''*^'°"'-- 

example  ,o  daughters  and  scrvam       F      f       "'^"^  "'  "" 
-  .1.C  l.o,„e  wm  enjoy  g„,„!    I  ^  ,,„     T'l """  '''  ""^'"« 

that  arc  shut  up  four-fifths  of  th.  r       ,  ^^  ''°°'"' 

an<i-.,ve,  .one,L,e.„ot  ll,  '^:^ ^^'^^^^  "-"■ 
a.'^k-ed  into  them.  ^  stranger  ;vho  is 

..^lity.    One  would  ain.o:  1 1 ,;""'  "'"  "'""  ""■'■■  ""^P'' 

- . .-  ..en  people  upoutit:::'rz  ™'"*' 

IlcnowsuchanoncfTotinf,.^,        •   •         ^  ^"^^'^  ^'""^n  a\va)r. 

.oo.w,,en.,epoo.c^r::::::,rc:-'''- 

never  sa\v:  he  uould  not  slecn  on  .        /  '''  '"''"  ' 

^— 'd  ,e:n,  ,o„.o„.ed'r.  ,1  z::::^^^  -  - 

was  too  small  and  th-it  h;«  K    i  "^"  "^ '^a'tl  the  bed-room 

our  poo.  nun.,e.  >  '  : Xrtn;'''  r"°  '""  "''^-  ""■'  ^ 
".aid.,  „„„  .„e,  .„.ea.e„ed  ot>^  ^t'^'^  '■;■  -"''''  >'- 
"0--  of  the  httle  ehildren  in  ; 'l  '  "  ^™'':''^'-'' °^  "- 
'l"=y  are ;  he  insisted  on  the  best  n  r  '""'^■'-'■'"^>-"«'«  ''"Wren 
piece  or  furniture,  boin,  ea  n'd  „r  nT  "'  "'^"'  '""''"'"''' 
ansrry  because  l,e  was  Lues  ted  to  ,       '■°°'"'  """  ""  "' 

"hen  his  i„eo„,e  was    Zttt  of'"'        ™"  -"'"'"^^'O^. 
•o  such  a  pass  that  the  m in,- t     sai    he"  T^''    ""'""■"  ^°' 

■•i.'  p-cew,,s  .ereasi„;;c  ::•  r:rT"'^-'7 

our  church-members  came  to  .sk   if  !•  ,   .         7  ""  °' 

^^^-'M-^'soonertakeaJ:;:''  :^:-"^/f: 
P'tality.  but  not  to  utterly  unworthv  .Z^  t  '^'""^^  ''"^■ 
^"  be  a  virtue,  so  does  hospitality/  Ho^;;!;  'i  TT"^  """ 
an  exceptional  case.  "owcvcr,  I  thmk  tJiat  uas 

18 


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ri      :l 


When  Hester  and  I  were  among  the  mountains,  we  saw  a 
little  log-house  where  a  genuine  hospitality  was  exercised.  It 
was  on  the  road  to  a  logging-camp,  and  the  wood-cutters  passed 
by  it  on  their  journeys.  Not  far  from  the  house  was  a  cool 
spring  under  some  trees.  The  good  woman  of  the  house  had 
put  in  the  shade  some  benches ;  she  kept  some  drinking  cups 
there,  and  had  had  a  basin  for  washing  hollowed  out  of  a  blod 
of  wood,  and  she  hung  near  it  a  good,  long  towel,  which  she 
changed  every  day ;  and  here  the  workmen,  hot,  and  hungry 
and  tired,  passing  by,  could  stop,  rest,  wash  their  faces,  eat  their 
luncheon,  and  get  a  cool  drink.  When  we  noticed  the  arrange- 
ments which  she  had  made  for  the  comfort  of  wayfarers,  she 

said: 

"Ah,  well,  it's  little  I  can  do  to  make  the  world  happier,  but 
I  just  thought  Id  like  a  resting-place  on  this  long,  steep  road, 
so  I  fixed  up  that,  and  it's  done  good  to  others,  and  the  blessing 
of  him  that  was  ready  to  perish  has  come  upon  me!" 

Hester  was  telling  me  lately  of  the  true  hospitality  shown  to 
herself  and  Dr.  Nugent  when  they  were  travelling  in  the  West. 
They  were  driving  by  themselves,  and  stopped  at  a  cabin  to  try 
and  get  bait  for  their  horses.  It  was  a  plain  little  place,  all  the 
furniture  having  been  hewn  out  of  the  forest  wood  by  the  set- 
"  tier  himself  While  the  horses  were  eating,  the  good  woman  of 
the  house  came  and  asked  Hester  to  rest  by  leaving  the  carriage 
and  coming  into  her  house.  She  brought  her  a  cup  of  rich 
milk  ;  then,  unasked,  brought  a  pail  of  water  that  she  might  bathe 
her  face  and  hands  and  dress  her  hair  after  the  long,  hot  ride. 
In  all  that  she  did  she  showed  an  unaffected,  hearty  kindness, 
which  lent  to  her  acts  a  grace  which  would  have  become  any 
lady  in  the  land.  When  she  saw  that  Hester  admired  some 
specimens  of  minerals  and  some  woodland  curiosities,  she 
insisted  on  her  taking  them ;  and  as  inquiries  were  made  about 
the  flowers  in  the  vicinity,  she  hurried  off  to  bring  some  which 


IIOSPITAUTY  ,x  THE  „0.\tE.  jjj 

v!lu ab,?' hT  '""^'  ""'  "'"'"  '"°"^''  '°  "'  -y  --  -d' 
valuable.     Hester  was  ve^^  glad  that  she  had  in  her  portman- 
teau a  number  of  articles  which  she  could  bestow  on  her  hostess 
and  wh,eh  were  gladly  accepted  when  she   learned   that,  a 
Hester  would  find  her  trunks  that  evening,  they  could  be  well 

Mrs.  Burr  one  winter,  set  all  our  town  an  example  of  charity 
and  hosp,.al.ty  akin  to  that  of  the  good  Samaritan  One  afte^ 
noon  as  snow  was  falling,  a  young  woman,  accompanied  by  a 
boy  of  five,  asked  leave  to  rest  and  d^  herself  at  the  kitchen 
fire.  Mrs.  Burr,  seemg  her  enter  the  yard,  went  to  the  kitchen 
to  ,nqu,re  mto  her  case,  and  ordered    her  a  cup  of  hot   tea 

cough,  the  kmd  lady  next  insisted  on  her  putting  on  dry  ^a,- 
n,e„ts,  shoes  and  hose  which  she  gave  her.  Mrs.  Burr  sa'd  „ 
her  servant: 

"  Kitty  if  you  would  give  that  poor  little  child  a  hoi  bath  1 
Have  a  s„.  „f  Co.hes  that  Ned  wore  long  ago,  which  you  might 

Kitty  agreed  with  alac'rity,  and  the  child,  having  then  a  bowl 
Of  bread  and  m,lk,  felt  vety  comfortable.     The  poor  mother 
however,  looked  exhausted  and  feverish.    The  storm  increased.' 
Mr  .  Burr  sa,d  she  could  not  .send  so  helpless  a  creature  out  in 
such  weather,  so  Kitty  made  a  fire  in  a  bed-room,  gave  ,h" 
mvahd  a  hot  bath  and  some  medicine,  and  put  hir  to  bed 
Twice  m  the  night  Mrs.  Burr  went  to  visit  her  patient,  and  early 
m  the  morn.ng  sent  for  young  Doctor  Winton,     As  the  woman 
ercw  worse.  Mrs.  Burr  waited  on  her  as  if  she  had  been  her 

ZX        ,1  '"?  "■"''■  ""■"'"■  ""=  *'-""S"  d-f-     She  told 

home       Vt      :  ""  "  *"''"'^  """"^  ^""^^  '"  h-  -ly 
home ;  and  Mrs.  Burr  wroh-  to  f»,»  ^.•„.„...„  •_  ..       .,,  ,  .  f 

......  ..■.,:,it;.  Ill  inc  viiiage  which 

«he  .nd.cated.  asking  him  to  seek  out  her  relatives,  and  let  her 
know  ,f  they  would  take  the  child.    The  minister  replied  that 


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11 


(< 


(v    ; 


they  would  do  so,  if  he  could  be  sent  to  them,  but  they  were 
very  poor.  Mrs.  Burr  buried  the  woman  decently,  and  con- 
cluded to  keep  the  boy,  training  him  for  a  house-servant  until 
he  was  old  enough  to  learn  a  trade.  All  the  village  became 
interested  in  the  poor  stranger,  and  sent  things  to  her  while  she 
was  ill,  and  helped  bury  her.  Now  that  was  a  hospitality  such 
as  Christ  recommends,  which  is  shown  to  the  poor,  the  halt,  the 
blind,  the  lame,  who  can  offer  no  compensation,  and  so  the 
return  is  left  to  Him. 

I  think  the  very  poor  often  set  us  an  example  of  genuine  hos 
pitality — how  they  divide  their  narrow  meal  with  a  hungry 
neighbor;  how  they  share  their  fire  and  their  shelter  with  those 
who  lack.  One  of  the  most  hospitable  women  in  our  town  is  a 
poor  washerwoman.  I  think  in  winter  she  always  has  warming 
at  her  fire  some  cold  little  body  whose  mother  is  off  for  a  day's 
work,  or  some  little  chap  who  has  nowhere  to  go  after  school, 
or  some  little  working-boy  who  docs  errands,  cuts  wood  and 
cleans  side-walks.  There  is  always  a  place  on  her  stove  to  boil 
tlie  soup  or  meat  of  some  one  who  must  save  firing ;  she  says, 
"  it  is  no  trouble  to  her,  for  her  fire  must  be  kept  up."  Two  or 
three  poor  neighbors  would  hardly  ever  get  their  clothes 
washed  for  want  of  soap  and  warm  water,  only  she  makes  them 
welcome  to  her  suds  wlien  her  washing  is  done.  Indeed,  she  is 
a  public  benefactor,  and  with  no  means  of  exercising  hosfji- 
tality  but  a  small,  bare  room  and  a  fire,  .she  yet  sets  us  all  an 
example  of  a  hearty,  thoughtful  sharing  of  that  little  with  those 
who  need. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  instances  of  hospitality  which  I 
ever  knew  happened  thus :  I  was  making  a  short  summer  visit 
to  a  scconcf  cousin ;  she  had  a  very  large  house,  and  a  good 
income.  As  we  sat  one  Saturday  afternoon  in  the  front  room, 
her  husband  remarked:  "There  is  Mr.  Potter,  his  wife,  his 
mother  and  his  three  children.     They  have  come  off  the  boat, 


HOSPITALITY  IN  THE   HOME. 


Tir 


muine  hos- 


and  are  going  toward  the  hotel,  but  I  don't  believe  he  can 
afford  to  pay  his  way  there.  Shall  I  ask  them  in  to  stop  over 
Sunday?" 

"Oh,  yes:  do,"  said  my  cousin,  heartily. 
The  good  man  then  ran  out  and  brought  in  his  guests.     My 
cousin  was  only  slightly  acquainted  with  Mr.  Potter;  he  knew 
that  he  was  a  Methodist  preacher  who  had  been  obliged  to 
cease  preaching  on  account  of  a  bronchial  disorder.     That  my 
cousin  belonged  to  another  church  made  no  difference  to  him: 
he  felt  that  all  the  children  of  God  are  one  family.     He  dis- 
covered that,  with  very  little  money  in  his  pocket,  Mr.  Pottf  7 
was  looking  for  something  to  do ;  he  thought  he  had  secured  * 
school,  and,  suddenly  disappointed,  he  found  himself  with  his 
helpless  family  on  his  hands,  strangers  in  a  strange  place.     M,. 
cousin  kept  making  him  welcome  in  his  home,  until  their  joint 
efforts  should  secure  him  a  place  to  labor.     In  fact,  the  who/e 
fhmily  stayed  a  full  year,  and  another  child  was  born  to  them 
under  this  hospitable  roof.     At  last  Mr.  Potter  so  far  recovered 
that  he  was  able  to  secure  a  small  church  ;  then  my  cousin  said : 
"Your  family  is  large:  leave  your  old  mother  here;  I  can  take 
better  care  of  her  than  you  can."    So  indeed  the  old  lady  stayed, 
and  stayed  nine  years.     My  cousin  said  she  never  begrudged 
the  hospitality  shown  her,  for  she  seemed  to  bring  a  blessing  to 
the  house,  as  the  Ark  of  God  to  Obed-Edom.     I  am  sure!' for 
iny  part,  that  the  faithful  Lord  will  never  forget  to  settle  such 
an  account  as  that  in  the  mansions  higher  up. 

After  our  discussion  at  the  Sewing  Society,  of  hospitality,  the 
subject  was  called  up  one  evening  at  our  Literary  Circle.  There 
we  sometimes  give  out  a  theme,  and  having  distributed  strips 
of  paper,  each  member  writes  down  a  sentence,  either  their  own 
or  some  quotation,  on  the  subject,  and  these  being  read,  the 
various  opinions  so  elicited  are  discussed.  When  Hospitalit" 
was  the  theme,  these  are  some  of  the  sentences  handed  in: 


278 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


"  Hospitality  is  the  reception  and  entertainment  of  strangers 
or  guests,  without  reward." — Webster. 

"  HospitaUty  I  have  found  as  universal  as  the  face  of  man," 
— Ledyard. 

'''The  derivation  of  this  word  is  from  hospes,  a  guest;  thence 
hospital,  a  place  for  receiving  guests,  a  refuge  for  those  in  need; 
formerly  freely  applied  to  schools  and  endowed  institutions  of 
learning :  thereafter  applied  to  places  for  the  reception  of  the 
sick  or  injured.  Knights  Hospitallers  were  a  chivalric  order  of 
the  middle  ages,  devoted  to  the  succor  of  pilgrims  to  the  holy 
sepulchre,  and  to  the  promotion  of  learning.  Their  head- 
quarters were  first  at  Jerusalem,  and  then  at  Malta;  their  defence 
of  Malta  against  the  sultans  was  one  of  the  most  gallant  achieve- 
ments of  history." 

"  Hospitality  seems  to  be  of  the  noblest  instincts  of  the  heart; 
a  primitive  virtue,  most  warmly  exercised  in  early  and  un- 
tutored ages.  It  was  especially  a  virtue  of  our  ancestors,  and 
si^ems  to  be  rather  dying  out,  than  increasing,  in  the  light  of 
C'vilization." 

"Hospitality:  a  charming  virtue,  perishing  gradually  under 
tUle  inroads  of  steam-cars  and  a  hotel  system." 

After  reading  these,  and  other  sentences,  .ve  began  to  discuss 
tJhe  question  whether  the  grace  of  hospitality  was  decreasing. 
The  extravagance  of  the  present  age,  the  emulation  in  the  style 
of  living,  and  the  false  shame  felt  at  living  plainly,  were  alleged 
as  reasons  why  people  now  less  freely  than  formerly  entertained 
guests.  The  increased  means  of  locomotion,  whereby  the  cor- 
rupt classes  of  the  cities  passed  more  freely  from  place  to  place, 
rendering  people  suspicious  of  strangers,  and  not  willing  to 
entertain  them,  was  another  reason  offered  for  a  decrease  in  that 
genial  hospitality  wherewith  our  forefathers  received  each  be- 
lated traveller,  and  made  him  welcome  to  their  hearth.  Cousin 
Ann  told   us  that  her  pastor,  a  holy  old  man,  years  ago,  when 


I/OSriTALITY  m  THE  HOME. 


279 


two  nice-looking  young  men  stopped  to  ask  their  way,  bad'.: 
them,  as  it  was  late,  dark  and  stormy,  to  remain  all  night.  They 
came  in  gladly,  were  seated  at  the  family  table,  and  spent  the 
evening  in  the  family  circle,  chatting  pleasantly.  They  knelt 
at  prayers,  when  the  good  man  asked  for  a  blessing  on  the 
stjangers  within  his  gates.  The  next  day  the  tempest  was 
heavier,  and  the  two  were  invited  to  tarry;  on  the  next  day  they 
set  out.  Three  days  after  that  they  were  arrested  as  notorious 
housebreakers.  The  minister  had  in  his  house  and  on  his  table 
a  good  deal  of  silver,  heired  by  his  wife,  his  quarter's  salary 
lay  in  his  unlocked  desk,  but  these  two  Ishmaels  of  society 
found  all  that  belonged  to  their  saintly  host  sacred  in  their 
eyes. 

Mr.  Burr  said  that  before  the  electric  telegraph,  the  steam-car, 
and  the  daily  paper,  people  in  the  rural  districts  were  so  far  cut 
off  from  the  news  of  Ihe  world  that  a  passing  traveller,  judge, 
schoolmaster,  day-laborer  or  peddler  was  to  the  family  in  lieu 
of  a  post-bag  of  letters,  and  a  whole  file  of  newspapers;  the 
,  information  which  he  brought,  seeming  to  put  them  into  contact 
••/ith  their  fellows,  largely  repaid  all  favors,  in  the  shape  of  bed 
and  board,  bestowed  upon  him.  From  the  host  down  to  the 
.•smallest  child,  and  to  the  maid  in  the  kitchen,  a  guest  came  as  a 
lienediction. 

Hester  reverted  to  yet  earlier  times,  when  wheeled  convey- 
ances were  almost  unknown;  highways  were  infested  with  rob- 
bers, and  roails  were  full  of  ruts  two  feet  deep ;  when  books  were 
only  in  manuscript,  or  were  worth  almost  their  weight  in  gold ; 
then  a  travelling  troubadour,  harper,  or  tale-teller,  was  as  the 
coming  to  the  house  of  a  whole  hbrary.  The  family  welcomed 
him,  and  gave  him  of  their  best,  and  besought  him  to  remain 
long;  they  learned  his  tales  and  songs  to  beguile  the  tedium 
of  their  winters;  if  any  of  them  could  write,  they  made  copies  of 
his  parchments,  to  keep  among  tl    "•  choicest  treasures.    So 


I 


M  ;i '  ^  *  II 


m 


I    I 


280 


r//£    COMPLETE  HOME. 


when  the  early  Lollards  of  Wyckliflc's  day  began  to  go  about 
the  country,  carrying  portions  of  the  Scriptures  and  of  religious 
works  in  written  rolls,  and  preaching  the  gospel,  they  were 
received  with  joy;  their  little  books  were  copied;  they  were 
detained  as  long  as  possible  to  instruct  the  family  and  the 
retainers,  and  thus  the  hospitality  which  seems  indigenous  in 
England  secured  the  spread  not  only  of  learning  but  of  true 
religion,  and  the  general  awakening  of  mind  and  independence, 
which  finally  led  to  the  securing  of  national  liberty.  Thus  has 
English  hospitality  been  largely  blessed  to  England. 

Mrs.  Winton  thought  that  ; instead  of  complaining  of  the 
demands  upon  our  hospitality,  we  should  rejoice  in  the  exercise 
of  this  virtue,  and  cherish  it  lest  it  should  become  as  a  "lost 
art"  to  future  generations.  That  is  a  very  lovely  stoiy  how 
Cowper  was  entertained  for  years  as  a  guest,  and  Dr.  Wattf. 
going  for  a  short  visit  remained  with  his  host  for  forty  years. 

Mrs.  Black  smartly  retorted  that  it  "would  be  all  well  enough 
if  one  could  be  sure  of  entertaining  Cowper  or  Watts  :  for  her  p^rt 
she  would  not  mind  having  the  author  of  '  John  Gilpin's  Ride' 
for  a  visitor.     But,  now-u-days,  if  one  exercised  promiscuous 
hospitality,  one  might  show  the  most  of  it  to  a  troop  of  tramps, 
wlio  were  thieves  and  cut-throats,  and  to  entertain  whom,  even 
for  a  meal,  was  to  encourage  idleness  and  pauperism.     She  did 
not  wonder  that  in  the  light  of  so  many  barn-burnings,  and  with 
the  record  of  so  many  murders  and  child-stealings,  hospitality  to 
unknown  individuals  was  falling  into  a  decline  and  like  to  die; 
for  her  part  she  would  willingly  attend  its  funeral." 

"The  question,"  said  our  minister,  "is,  like  many  questions, 
typed  by  the  British  Shield  in  the  fable,  which  had  one  side  of 
gold  and  one  of  silver,  and  about  the  material  of  which  it  was 
not  well  to  dispute  hotly  until  one  had  looked  at  both  sides. 
There  is  a  usa  of  hospitality  which,  like  mercy,  was  twice 
blessed :  blessing  liitn  who  gives  and  him  who  takes.     There  is 


nOSPlTAUTY  m  THE  HOME.  gSl 

tZ  '""^Z  ''  '°-^'''''''  '^-^  "'""  °"^^  '■^^^'^-^  b>^  '^  itinerant 
.dlene^   rude,  ungracious  assumption,   or   received   a   viciou. 

wh.ch  M.lton  draws  in  the  Fifth  Book  of  "Paradise  lost' 
where  he  represents  Eve  making  ready  the  entertainment  of  l.-r 
guest  Adam  beguihng  the  .ay  by  accounts  of  the  garden-hfe 
mce  the  creat.on.  and  both  tl,e  first  pair  seated,  attentively 
hstcnmg  to  the  discourse  of  their  guest. 

Winf"  .'h'''7    '''"""    '    ^""^   ^"'    "'^   ^^-^'"    -'d    Mr. 
Wmton.     has  always  been  considered  very  sacred.     The  Home 

spreads  Its  a^gis  of  protection  over  all  who  come  under  its  roof- 
to  murder  or  rob  a  guest,  or  a  host,  has  been  esteemed  the  very 
extremity  of  wickedness.     The  wildest  Arab  protects  him  who 
has  eaten  of  his  salt;  if  one  of  our  Indians  offered  the  calumet 
of  peace  to  a  stranger  and  led  him  into  his  wigwam,  then  he 
was  that  stranger's  defender  until  he  went  forth  in  peace      The 
I-ev.t,cal  law  forbid   returning   to   his   master  a  fugitive  slave 
who  had  made  one's  roof  his  refuge.     The  most  reckless  of  the 
Afghan  robbers  will  protect  to  the  utmost  a  man  who  is  his 
L'uest  even  though  he  should  be  willing  to  waylay  and  assassi- 
nate hmi  after  he  has  gone  out  from  under  his  shelter.     I  have 
never  read  of  any  land  or  tribe  where  hospitality  was  unknown 
and  truly  this  grace  of  the  barbarian  should  shine  better  and 
brighter  in  the  civilized  man  and  the  Christian.     Let  us  make  a 
ponit  to  cultivate  it,  especially  in  our  families,  so  that  this  virtue 
and  the  blessings  attending  on  it,  may  descend  to  our  children's 
children,  and  that  Hospitality  may  revive  and  not  die  out  in  the 
nineteenth  century." 

But  I  think  that  one  of  the  very  choicest  forms  of  Hospitality 
.s  one  that  peculiarly  belongs  to  people  in  the  country,  or  in 
small  villages.  Of  late  th.  charitably  inclined  in  cities  have 
been  appealing  to  those  living  in  rural  districts  to  receive  into 


I      ! 

r  ^ 


in 


Is!         'I'fl 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


■k.-:JL 


their  houses,  for  a  little  time  in  the  summer,  the  worn-out,  indigent 
workers  of  the  city,  or  poor  little  city  children.  Seamstresses, 
shop-girls,  tradeswomen,  exhausted,  needing  a  change  of  air, 
unable  to  pay  for  such  a  luxury,  would  have  minds,  bodies  and 
hearts  revived  by  being  accepted  as  unpretending  guests,  ready 
to  take  the  plainest  room,  glad  to  lend  a  hand  in  home-work, 
thankful  for  a  share  of  the  ordinary  family  meals;  city  friends 
would  pay  their  travelling  expenses ;  the  farm-house  would  not 
find  itself  encumbered  by  one  or  two  such  visitors — indeed,  the 
healthful,  peaceful  life  of  the  farm  would  grow  more  a  id  more 
beautiful  to  country  people's  view  beheld  through  these  admir- 
ing, wondering  eyes  of  the  honest  city  poor,  who  revel  in  a 
dandelion  or  a  daisy,  who  esteem  buttcrinHk  the  choicest  pos- 
sible beverage,  and  a  live  chicken  a  thing  to  gaze  at  by  the 
hour.  What  draughts  of  joy  and  health  these  weazened  chil- 
dren from  crowded,  narrow  city  streets  or  sunless  attics  drink  in 
the  glorious  country!  They  may  live  to  be  healthful,  cour- 
ageous men  and  women  by  virtue  of  these  tumbles  in  the  hay, 
this  going  after  berries,  and  driving  home  the  cows.  Cousin 
iVnn  every  summer  has  a  succession  of  such  guests,  and  the 
toys  fitted  up  three  little  rooms  over  the  tool-house,  making 
most  of  the  furniture  themselves,  for  the  accommodation  of  three 
more  of  these  strangers  sent  by  city  clergymen  aiui  friends; 
')V'hile  for  a  month  every  summer  the  best  sp.-r,>c,n  Is  occu- 
pied by  some  city  missionary,  to  whom  costly  summer  resorts 
would  be  an  impossibility.  It  makes  no  matter  if  Reuben  and 
Ann  have  not  met  him  before:  he  and  his  wife  and  a  child  of 
->  .  e  welcomed  as  kiasmen  in  Christ  Here  indeed  is  truo 
IK.  .pi' 'My. 


,7"'! 


r  I 


«^f»*' 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FRIENDSHIPS   IN   THE   HOME. 
AUNT    SOPHRONIA'S  VIEWS  OF  THE  COMPANY  WE  SHOULD  KEEP. 

DO  not  think  our  village  is  worse  than  any  others;  but 
surely  it  is  not  better  than  others  in  the  matter  of  keeping 
children  and  young  folks  off  the  streets,  and  in  good 
company.     As  I  went  to  Helen's  lately,  I  found  Ton. 
frolicking  in  the  street  with  a  number  of  little  fellows  who  havo 
no  advantages  of  home-training,  who  fight  and  use  bad  words. 
I  took  Tom  with  me  to  his  own  house,  and  when  he  was  safcl3r 
playing  in  his  own  back-yard,  I  began  to  reason  with  his  mother 
concerning  him.     Having  mentioned  the  boys  with  whom  I  had 
found  him  playing,  I  asked:  "Now,  Helen,  does  it  seem  to 
you  that  God  has  given  Tom,  in  the  birth  which  he  has  assigned 
him,  any  advantages   over  these  children— any  better  oppor- 
tunities?" 

"  Why,  of  course,  he  has,"  said  Helen. 

"And  then,  are  you  not  rcckipssly  throwing  away  for  Tom  this 
birthright,  are  you  not  nullifying  these  privileges,  by  casting 
his  lot  in  with  these  less  fortunate  ones,  subjecting  him  to  their 
temptations,  putting  him  in  the  way  of  the  evil  example  which 
they  find  in  their  homes?  Little  Teddy  Buck  has  no  yard  to 
play  in,  no  home  but  3  grog-shop.  Society  which  is  better  off 
does  owe  Teddy  a  helping  hand,  but  a  child  like  T  „  is  not  the 
proper  missionary.  Tom  will  learn  evil  of  Tedd> ,  nd  Teddy 
will  get  no  good  from  Tom,  Tom  has  been  allotted  by  Provi- 
dence a  nice  yard  in  which  to  play,  but  in  permitting  him  to  run  the 

(283) 


liMHINt 


284 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


Streets  you  put  him  as  far  as  you  can  in  Teddy's  place,  and  sup- 
ject  him  to  the  transmitted  evil  influences  of  the  bar-room.  Tom 
is  happy  in  having  a  father  who  would  use  no  profane  nor  vulgar 
lano-uage,  but  you  allow  him  to  associate  with  Jim  Green,  whoso 
mouth  is  full  of  the  vice  and  blasphemy  which  he  hears  from  his 
father.  You  would  be  shocked  at  having  a  gambler  like  James 
Wall  admitted  into  your  society,  but  here  youi  )wn  son, '  playing 
for  keeps'  on  the  corner,  is  learning  to  be  what  you  loathe, 
Mike  Flannagan  is  coarse  and  dirty.  Suppose  Tom  asked  him 
into  your  sitting-roon>  ?  You  would  be  angry,  and  yet,  as  we  grow 
like  our  associates,  you  are  allowing  Tom  to  grow  like  Mike 
Flannagan,  and  by-and-by,  instead  of  a  son  to  be  proud  of,  and' 
a  companion  and  protector  of  his  sisters,  he  will  be  a  foul  little 
ruffian,  fit  only  to  disgrace  you." 

"  Oh,  aunt,"  cried   Helen,  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  you  are  too 

severe." 

"  No,  my  dear,  not  a  bit.  This  is  plain,  hard  truth,  which  other 
people  would  not  venture  to  tell  you,  but  in  a  few  years,  if  Tom 
turns  out  a  reprobate,  these  same  sinfully  silent  friends  would 
say :  'Ah,  I  knew  how  Tom  would  turn  out :  from  the  way  his 
mother  let  him  run  the  streets,  what  else  could  she  expect?' 
Now  I  tell  you  in  time,  so  that  you  may  take  counsel  and 
escape  trouble." 

"  hut,  aunt,"  said  Helen,  putting  herself  on  the  defensive,  "  we 
cannot  keep  our  children  always  from  contact  with  the  world, 
nor  from  the  evil  that  is  in  it." 

"Very  true,  but  God  gave  them  homes  and  parental  care,  to  be 
their  shelter,  until  they  are  established  in  virtue,  love  truth,  and 
can  resist  temptation.  The  child's  training  is  always  different 
from  the  man's  action,  although  it  .served  to  fit  him  for  it.  \'c>u 
strengthen  the  child's  stoma'^h  on  milk  and  on  delicate  fooii, 
that  it  may  grow  capable  later  of  digesting  moat ;  y>cA\  expect 
your  child  to  walk,  and  because  you  expect  that,  you  do  not  set 


J 


FRIENDSHIPS  /A'   THE  HOME. 


285 


a  child  of  a  week  old  to  bcari-icj  its  weight  on  its  boneless  legs, 
or  you  would  have  not  an  athlete  but  a  cripple." 

Hester  had  been  sitting  with  Helen,  and  she  added :  "  Plato 

3ays,  'A  young  man  who  is  good   is  apt  to  be  deceived  by 

Others,  because  he  has  no  pattern  of  evil  in  himself:  therefore  a 

judge  should  be  advanced  in  years,  and  his  youth  should  have 

)oen  innocent,  and  he  should  have  acquired  experience  of  evil 

•Uc  in  life  by  observation.'     What  is  good  for  forming  a  just 

judge  is  good  for  forming  any  man.  and  here  the  demand  is  for 

.'Ml  innocent  youth,  .segregated  from  vice,  and  learning  of  evil, 

not  by  crime-committing  and  remorse,  but  by  seeing  its  effects 

upon  society  in  general." 

"  Oh,"  said  Helen,  "  I  sec  you  are  both  against  me.  I  cnlv 
wish  you  knew  how  crazy  Tom  is  after  some  one  to  play  with, 
rmd  how  hard  it  is  to  keep  him  within  bounds." 

"  My  child  I "  I  exclaimed,  "  the  very  hardness  of  the  ta.sk 
shows  you  how  needful  it  is  to  perform  it.  '  If  it  is  hard  now,  if 
Tom  is  left  to  the  freedom  of  his  own  will,  by  the  time  he'  is 
fiteen  he  would  be  pa.st  all  control ;  and  that  it  is  hard  does  not 
l--sscn  your  maternal  duty.  Consider  the  u.sefulness  of  Tom's 
life:  all  the  happiness  of  your  later  years,  the  credit  of  your 
fmiily,  the  well-being  of  an  immortal  soul,  hang  on  your  per^ 
formance  of  duty.  Oh.  that  you  might  see  that  duty  now  as 
clearly  as  you  will  sec  it  if  ever  it  becomes  too  late  to  see  and 
do." 

"Cousin  Helen,"  .said  Hester,  "don't  blame  Tom  for  being 
fond  of  playmates  and  company.  Man  is  a  social  animal ;  the 
child  only  shares  the  nature  of  his  kind.  You  do  not  desire 
Iiim  to  be  a  hermit  or  a  cynic,  although  that  would  be 
better  than  a  rowdy  or  a  criminal.  If  he  is  to  .sway  men  or 
succeed  among  them,  he  must  begin  by  leading  the  life  of  a 
citizen,  not  of  a  misar.thrope.  Doubtless  there  are  mothers  who 
have  seen  sons  go  to  the  gallows,  or  the  penitentiary,  or  have 


r 


III 


"  '"if 


vy 


l.:\| 


W      >' 


286 


TJ/i:   COMPLETE  HOME. 


followed  to  a  premature  grave  the  victim  of  debauchery,  who, 
if  they  had  been  true  to  their  maternal  task,  might  have  seen 
their  children  standin'^  in  the  highest  places  of  state,  or  church, 
or  science,  and  dying  have  been  followed  by  the  lamentations  of 
a  whole  people." 

"Why,"  said  Helen,  "you  speak  as  if  it  all  rested  with 
mothers,  but  some  who  have  had  no  mothers  or  have  had  bad 
mothers  have  done  very  well." 

"  We  see  now  and  then  in  nature,"  said  Hester,  "  unexpected 
or  abnormal  growths,  developments  which  are  exceptions  to  a 
usual  law,  but  wc  expect  what,  conforms  to  the  law.  From  2 
poor  stock  a  better  scion  may  spring ;  but  rule  is,  good  stock, 
good  scion,  and  we  do  not  trust  to  poor  stock  for  better  things 
If  I  tossed  a  valuable  bulb  or  root  out  on  that  garden-bed  it 
viight  take  root  and  thrive,  but  I  should  be  almost  absolutely 
certain  of  its  thriving  if  I  carefully  planted  and  cultured  i' 
according  to  its  kind.  Do  not,  Helen,  try  to  escape  the  fac  t 
that  parents  are  the  architects  of  their  children's  future.  Socrates 
said :  'A  golden  parent  may  have  a  silver  son,  and  a  silver 
parent  a  golden  son,  or  perchance  the  son  of  a  golden  or  silver 
parent  may  have  an  admixture  of  brass  or  iron.'  But  all  this, 
my  cousin,  will  be  because  there  entered  gold,  or  silver,  or  brass, 
or  iron,  into  parental  training." 

"  But,"  .said  Helen,  "  I  do  try  to  train  up  Tom  as  well  as  I 
know." 

"Helen,"  I  said,  "  consider  this  reasonably;  you  try  in  the 
house  to  make  Tom  a  gentleman  ;  you  check  a  bawling  tone,  you 
cultivate  a  polite  reply,  you  reprimand  him  if  he  calls  names, 
and  you  arc  pleased  if  any  one  notices  that  his  manners  are 
refined.  This  you  do  in  the  house,  half  an  hour  or  so;  then  he 
goes  out  on  the  street,  he  whoops  like  an  Indian,  knocks  off  the 
cap  of  some  passing  child,  .squabbles  over  his  marbles,  and  flings 
dust  in  the  face  of  his  opponent,  and  finally  relieves  his  mind  by 


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gelling  at  him  that  he  is  '  a  dumb  old  blunderbuss ; '  then  dodging 
from  a  stone  thrown  in  revenge  for  the  epithet,  he  stumbles  into 
old  Mrs.  Petty,  hobbling  along  to  visit  her  daughter,  and  almost 
throws  the  dame  into  the  gutter." 
"  He  deserves  a  good  whipping,"  cried  Helen,  indignantly. 
"  But,  Helen,  he  was  acting  exactly  like  the  company  which 
yon  alloivcd  him  to  be  in ;  he  merely  yielded  to  the  temptations 
of  the  position  in  which  you  had  placed  him.     In  his  own  yard, 
playing  with  lads  of  your  choice,  Tom  would  have  done  none' 
of  these  things;  your  letting  him  run  with  wild,  bad  children 
destroys  your  own  teaching.     Suppose  you  do  teach  him  the 
Commandments:  if  you  let  him  play  with  children  who,  in  his 
presence,  break  hourly  the  third,  the  fifth,  the  ninth  and  the 
tenth,  the  example  will  be  far  more  potent  than  the  precept. 
We  are  members  of  a  fallen  race,  Helen,  and  evil  seizes  on  us 
with  a  far  stronger  hold  than  good.    Helen,  your  own  conscience 
shows  you  your  duty :  do  not  let  pride  or  indolence  ruin  the  soul 
of  your  son." 
"  But  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  cried  Helen. 

"  Why,"  said  Hester,  in  her  matter-of-fact  way,  "  here  is  a  card ; 
now  write  down  on  it  the  names  of  four  or  five  boys  who  in  your 
•'iew  are  fit  playmates  for  Tom.    Then  call  in  Tom  :  tell  him  it  is 
«me  you  made  new  rules  for  him ;  that  hereafter  he  cannot  play 
outside  of  his  own  yard,  unless  -it  is  in  the  yard  of  some  one 
whom  by  your  permission  he  is  visiting.     Tell  him  these  boys 
•named  on  the  card  are  the  boys  whom  he  is  to  go  with,  and  if 
the  circle  is  increased  it  will  be  by  you.     Tell  him  that  jou 
shall  permit  no  infringement  of  these  laws  ;  and  inasmuch,  Helen, 
as  you   arc  not  very  forcible  in  maintaining  your   rules,  \\\ 
advise  you  to  lay  the  case  before  Frank,  and  have  him  positive!)' 
re-affirm  this  judgment." 

Helen,  with  a  few  suggestions  from  us,  wrote  her  card  and 
then  sent  for  Master  Tom.    As  he  was  coming,  she  said  to 


I'H, , 

k 

J" 


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..  I, 


Hester :  "  You  begin  the  matter :  you  know  how  to  get  on  with 
boys  and  I  don't." 
In  came  Tom. 

Said  Hester:  "Tom,  I'm  going  to  take  a  boy  out  to  Cousm 
Ann's  to  spend  the  day  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  pay  no  regard  to 
relationship  in  choosing  him.  Shall  I  take  you  or  Mike  Flan- 
nagan?" 

"  Take  mc,"  .spoke  up  Tom,  confidently. 
"  Why,  what  better  claims  have  you  ?"  asked  Hester. 
"  I've — I've  got  the  best  clothes,"  said  Tom. 
"As  for  that,  I  can  easily  buy  Mike  as  good  a  suit." 
"Oh,  come  now,  Cousin  Ikster,"  argued  Tom,  "you  don't 
want  him  round  a  lady  like  you.     Why,  Mike  swears  awful,  and 
he  uses  such  grammar  you  wouldn't  know  what  he  was  saying; 
and  he  lies — oh,  you  couldn't  believe  one  word  he  said  to  you 
all  day!" 

"  Humph,  a  pretty  boy  for  you  to  be  playing  with !  How 
long  will  it  take  you  to  grow  like  him  ?  If  you  run  with  him 
much  longer,  are  you  likely  next  year  to  be  any  better  company 
'  for  a  lady '  than  he  is  ?  " 

Tom  crimsoned  and  hung  his  head. 
"  I'm  not  like  Mike  yet,"  he  mumbled. 

"  I  did  not  think  you  were  acting  very  unlike  him  when  I 
brought  you  off  the  street,"  I  remarked. 

Then  Helen  showed  him  her  card,  and  laid  down  her  new 
rules,  with  more  authority  than  she  u  ually  shows.  Tom  .stood* 
looking  perplexed,  but  Hester  went  on  smoothly  as  if  it  were 
part  of  the  plan.  "And  as  you  will  want  to  have  a  good  time 
in  your  own  yard,  you  are  to  have  a  row  of  pop-corn  of  your 
own  planting  all  along  the  back  fence ;  and  the  top  room  of  the 
woo6-shed  you  can  clear  out  for  your  boys  to  have  shows,  pan- 
oramas, and  .so  on,  in;  and  your  father  is  going  to  put  up  :,ome 
poles  and  such  things  for  gymnastics  for  you,  and  when  hot 


FJ!J£ms/l,PS  If,   Tim  /JOME.  2g„ 

weather  comes,  I  ,„,c„d  to  lend  you  n,y  sraalle.,,  lc„,  ,o  .c  „„ 
";  your  yard,  for  your  use.  If  you  wi,,  .ak=  care  of  it.    ll  t 
»  .ould  be  soro.  to  suggest  the  dreadful  things  which  are  ]il<cly 
■■  befall  you,  ,f  you  do  bre.ak  rules  and  run  the  street " 

Catch  me  runnin;;  the  street,"  quoth  Tom,  ••  if  I  can  have 
.»«  here  to  play  ,vith,  and  ,,,„s  to  play  .^,  .,„  ;ZlZ) 

•    T      .  smiling,     rhcrc  is  sound  philosonhv 

Tom  s  remark:  ■///..„.-.  ,,,.,.,,„,     ^,^  ,,,,J,J^^ 

n  ado  to  be  controlled  by  law,  and  it  craves  la,.     When 

CO  e       o„    ,3  ^,_,^,^  ,,,  .„^.  ,„^^,„,  ^^  ^,^,  ,_^^,  J^^-^ 

o     tecl  ,n     velvet  glove.     The  velvet  glcve  handled  all  thin.., 
w,th  gemal  courtesy,  but  if  any  one  began  to  slip  o^  i„to  the 

vays  of  error,  the  steel  hand  under  that  velvet  glove  setth^ 
firmly  down  on  the  culprit  with  the  grasp  of  a  vice.    To   " M 
was  bootless:  there  was  that  calm,  silent  authority.    One  of  „, 
el  er  g.rls,  who  had  lived  utterly  without  restraint  a.  l,ou,e  I 

n  e.    One  s.a,d  to  her:  •  H„w  can  you  stand  such  a  change, 
d  rc„  7-r  "  "™'  *°  """'     '"=  ™-i''-dawh,e 

»  ,s  ngl.,  and  as  long  ,as  you  abide  by  it  you  arc-  easy  In. 
fre-  from  danger.'  "  "^ 

"There  is  almost  no  point,  Helen."  I  said,  "  in  which  this 
parental  or  „on,e  authority  can  be  more  legitimately  cxeli    d 

™.  m  regard  to  the  friendships  of  our  children.    tL  fan,  C' 
not     un,t,  cast  alone  into  space:  it  is  one  of  n,any  which  make 

P  l.e  grand  sum  total  of  the  r.ace;  in  eve^y  departntent  of  lif 
«     to..h  on  our  fellows;  we  were  born  social  animals,  and  we 
wUl  cercse  our  social  instincts,  each  for  himself  the  centre  of 
concenlnc  crcles,  the  sacred,  inner  circle  of  do,.  fr;,.„d-l,:.  - 
'l.e  "e..t  of  daily  acquaintances,  the  next  of  business  acquai^ 


I 


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n 


r\nces,  and  the  wide,  outer  circle  of  an  unknown  world.  The 
little  child  must  have  friends,  but  knows  nothing  how  to  choose 
friends  ;  his  parents  must  choose  for  him.  Helen,  you  must  sub- 
iect  the  moral  character,  the  natural  traits,  the  home-training, 
the  manners,  the  language,  the  pursuits  of  your  children's  com- 
panions to  the  closest  scrutiny." 

"Oh,  how  can  I  constantly  remember  so  much ! " 
"  \Vhy,  child,  you  did  all  this  in  making  out  that  card.  You 
chose  the  minister's  little  son  because  he  was  good  and  so  well 
trained ;  two  little  Carr  boys  because  their  manners  and  language 
had  been  so  well  guarded  ;  you  rejected  one  boy  because  he  was 
so  notoriously  passionate,  and  you  put  the  son  of  the  tailoress 
on  the  top  of  your  list  because  he  is  known  as  one  of  the  best 
boys  in  town.  Use  always  the  care  and  judgment  you  have  in 
making  this  list." 

On  my  way  home  from  Helen's  I  called  on  Mrs.  Black,  and 
ns  I  sat  with  her  we  saw  Belinda  pasi-ing,  with  Maria  Sellers. 
Mrs.  Black  exclaimed  :  "  I  do  wish  Belinda  would  not  go  so 
much  with  Maria;  Maria  is  a  bold  girl,  always  running  about 
the  .streets,  and  talking  of  young  men  ;  her  manners  are  noisy, 
and  .she  is  very  silly." 

"  If  you  do  not.like  the  friendship,  Mrs.  Black,"  I  said,  "why 
do  you  not  break  it  off?  Mothers  have  a  right  to  choose  the 
friends  of  their  daughters.  If  you  do  not  exercise  your  right, 
and  so  give  Belinda  the  benefit  of  your  wider  experience  and 
more  mature  judgment,  she  is  in  that  respect  no  better  off  than 
a  poor  orphan.  God  gave  parents  their  training  in  long  disap- 
pointments, and  broken  (aiths,  and  looks  down  unfathomable  gulfs 
of  wickedness,  that  mighty  ruin  caused  by  taking  false  coin  of 
friendship  for  their  own  sincerity,  that  they  might  know  how  to 
.shield  their  children  from  temptation,  or  to  deliver  them  when 
they  are  tempted.  If  you  had  received  a  fortune  you  would 
make  Belinda  a  sharer  in  it,  and  not  turn  her  out  a  pauper  to  beg 


l-sir.xDsnirs  ,x  the  /,oi,e.  201 

fron,  door  to  door ;  and  you  have  received  this  fortune  of  cxpc 

ends  from  certain  beginning.,,  and  to  know  where  danger  lie, 
and  yet  you  disinherit  Belinda  from  that,  and  let  her  take  h,; 
own  chance  of  being   harmed   by  harmful    friends.     There 

they  form,  and  parents  should  look  to  it " 

This  subject  of  Home  Friendships  being  i„  my  n,i„d  I  „,e„t 
™edaytoca„at  the  parsonage,  and  our  minister  said   '  M 
Sophroma,  suggest  to  me  a  te.xt  for  a  sermon:  .somc.hin!  of 
popular  interest"  u"iunm„  ot 

■'  I  ™""'='  suggest  to  you  a  ,e..,,"  I  said,- "but  I  will  ..ive  yo. 
a  subject  on  which  I  really  ,vi,„  y„„  ,„„„„  ^^^      l^ 

how  important  a  part  our  friendships  play  i„  our  n.oral  and 
»p.n.ua  live,.    I  do  not  think  parents  understand  their  ,■    p! 
^  .  .y  for  the  friendship,  formed  by  their  son,  and  daugh  ^ 
™       must  be  common-sense  law,  and  God's  law  to  go^rn  it' 
•So  lot  us  hiive  your  opinions  on  it" 

Kc'ed    ';•":";»  °""°""^=''  «'=  "■--=  -  >-><  before, 

I!  cau.=  thou   hast  joined    thy.-elf  with  Ahaziah,  God    h.ath 
broken  thy  works."     He  enlarged  on   our  Christian  duty 
(orming  suitable  friendship,  f„,  „„,,k„3  and  our  families.  ', 

man      ' T  ?Tr,  "'  '™"""""  ="'  '"'•^^"""^  '"  "»  "-«  "' 
nian-a  plai  t  of  Eden  which  h,ad  not  been  rooted  up  by  the 

tempes  of  the  Fall,  but  had  bloomed  in  every  a.e.     He  spol" 

0.^, vine  warrant  for  our  friendships ;  of  iJoch,  who  w 

..1   God ;  o    Moses,  who  talked  with  God  as  a  man  doe,  will, 

1-  fnend,  of  Abraham,  who  was  known  as  the  friend  of  God 

ender  friendship  which  bound  David  and  Jonathan;  of' 

loving  and  choosing  the  seventy  and  the  twelve,  and  then 


■.If  /"' 

If 


of 
Ch 


r  i.ij 


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''■  m 


'.  i  V I 


the  special  three,  Peter,  James  and  John,  for  his  particular  friend, 
ship,  and  of  that  tender  friendship  with  the  household  in  Beth^ 
any.     God  sends  his  people  out  two  by  two,  and  family  by 
family,  and  gives  the  social  tie;  and  as  "  iron  sharpeneth  iron, 
so  doth  the  countenance  of  a  man  his  friend."     But  over  the 
exercise  of  this  instinct  of  friendship  God  keeps  watch:    oui 
friendships  are  amenable  to  law ;  there  must  be  reason  in  the 
choice ;  the  natural  instinct  rises  to  the  higher  level  of  logical 
preference.     False  friendships  distract  and  torture  us ;  the  friend- 
ship of  the  wicked  betrays  us  into  danger,  and  brings  us  to  judg 
ment :  there  was  wrath  on  Jchoshaphat  because  he  loved  them 
that  hated  the  Lord.     If  our  friends  cannot  be  bound  to  be  dear 
lovers  of  our  other  friends,  it  is  yet  impossible  that,  holding  that 
relation  to  us,  they  should  be  their  enemies.     So  a  Christian  can- 
not choose  for  a  friend  the  foe  of  his  Lord ;  the  moral  man  can- 
not choose  the  immoral ;  the  law-abiding  cannot  choose  the  law- 
hater.     In  fact,  one  of  the  chief  elements  in  friendship  is  syinpa-^ 
thy;  and  so  are  we  known  by  the  company  which  we  keep,  and 
are  judged  to  be  as  our  friends  are.     The  friend  of  one  member 
of  the  family  is  brought  into  contact  with  all ;  this  friend  then 
should  be  damaging  to  none.     The  parent  must  not  choose  a 
friend  who  would  be  injurious  to  his  child:  the  husband,  a  man 
whom   he  cannot  introduce  to  his  wife;    the   mother   cannot 
choose  a  foolish-tongued  woman  who  would  be  a  bad  example 
to  her  daughter;  the  brother,  a  youth  unfit  for  the  society  of  his 
sister.    Friends  can  bring  into  our  homes  moral  poison,  or  honey 
from  the  hives  of  Hybla ;  there  is  no  law  of  hospitality  which 
would  bid  us  open  our  doors  any  sooner  to  the  bringer-in  of 
discord,  or  unfaith,  or  vice,  than  to  the  housebreaker,  the  murderer 
or  the  bringer-in  of  contagious  diseases.     Keep  the  sanctuary 
of  Home  inviolate.     Satan  knows  the  power  of  evil  friendships, 
and  he  strives  to  destroy  innocent  youth  by  evil  companionship. 
Are  you,  parents,  on  your  guard  against  this  device  of  the  devil? 


mmmsmps  in  the  home.  jjj 

Are  you  choosing  the  friends  of  your  children,  or  are  you  leav- 
ms  .I.em  ,„  all  the  reckless  confidence,  the  broad  sy„,pathies 

whom  the  adversary  of  souls  h,s  spread  as  a  net  at  the  head  of 
every  wayi.     R,,„„,ber  that  vice  is.  on  the  exterior,  often  allur- 

2u   I     ?  r'"""''"  '°™"'  ="  ""'  ""*■  '*"al.  witty,  well 
l^.lled  mal    .1,0  pretty  arts  of  life  and  society;  unwary  jouth 

of  lS.r"         "  "  "■""'"•  *"  '°''  °°''  "^'^'"S  ■■"  «-'-'' 

"  Behold,  how  fair  an  outside  falsehood  hath ! " 

Young  ptoplc  In  their  first  intercourse  with  the  world  have 
very  singular  grounds  for  choice  of  friends.     A  young  lad  will 
find  suOlccnt  cause  for  conferring  his  friendship  if  a  strange, 
has  a  good  su.t  of  clothes,  a  jolly  laugh,  or  the  glory  of  ownfng 
a  gun  a  hslung-rod,  a  dog  or  a  pony.     Fathers  should  not  allow 
then-  busmcs.  so  to  engross  their  niinds  that  they  have  no  time 
or    hcH.ght  to  spend  on  their  sons'  friendships;  they  are  more 
lldy  than  mothers  to  know  the  ways  of  the  lads  i„  the  nei.h- 
borhood,  and  they  should  see  to  it  that  their  sons  do  not  fo^m 
nendsh.ps  wh.ch  are  likely  to  nullify  any  good  teaching  which 
they  may  got  at  home.  ^ 

I  was  speaking  of  this  to  Cousin  Ann  one  day.  and  she  said 
that  people  who  hvc  in  the  country,  and  have  two  or  three  sons 
nearly  o    an  age  to  be  companions  for  each  other,  hardly  know 
-V  well  of    thoy  arc.     There  is  a  tendency  in  the  young  lads 
•n  the  country  to  flock  to  the  villages  to  chat  at  the  tavern  or 
the  corner  store,  but  this  tendency  can  be  checked  by  makin. 
the  ho„,e  pleasant,  bringing  into  it  plenty  of  books  and  papers^ 
and  mvtmg  friends  freely,  and  making  it  agreeable  for  them.' 
The  fi.,cnds  of  all  members  of  the  family  ought  equally  to  be 
.nvted:  that  us  a  dangerous  plan  which  invites  the  dauehter's 
.nends.  onihc  pica  that  young  girls  are  quieter  and  more^asijy 
rntcrtauK«d.  and  refuses  to  invite  the  son's  frie.ids  because  they 


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arc  "too  much  trouble."  Thus,  the  boys  feel  slighted,  are 
inclined  to  go  abroad  to  seek  mor..  troublesome  friends  than 
they  would  bring  into  the  house.  By  having  their  acquaint- 
ances rejected  from  the  home  circle,  they  fall  into  a  habit  of 
keeping  aloof  from  the  society  of  their  homes,  say  it  is  too 
much  trouble  to  dress  to  see  people,  get  shy  and  awkward,  and 
soon  sink  to  a  lower  plane  of  companionship  than  that  to  v  hich 
they  are  entitled.  Cousin  Ann  said  her  children  never  iuvited 
friends  without  consulting  her,  but  that  on  her  part  she  never 
begrudged  a  little  trouble  in  entertaining  her  children's  friends 
as  freely  as  her  own— in  fact,  in'  making  them  her  own ;  and  she 
always  tried  to  increase  the  circle  of  their  acquaintances  by 
receiving  into  it  all  new-comers  whose  character  would  make 
them  acceptable. 

Mrs.  Black,  Mrs.  Winton  and  Miriam  met  at  my  house  cm? 
afternoon  quite  by  accident,  and  the  subject  of  forming  friend- 
ships came  up  in  the  course  of  conversation. 

"  I'm  sure,"  cried  Mrs.  Black,  "  sometimes  I  wish  we'd  all 
been  born  hermits,  or  had  been  wrecked  on  a  desert  island,  I 
have  such  trouble  with  my  girls'  acquaintances.  They  get 
desperately  intimate  with  some  other  girl  for  no  reason  in  life, 
perhaps,  but  that  she  wears  clothes  which  they  admire,  or  has  a 
chatty  way  in  society  which  draws  young  men  about  her,  or  is 
a  good  hand  at  getting  up  pic-nics  and  entertainments.  As  long 
as  they  are  friends  there  never  was  such  a  dear,  and  as  soon  as 
they  quarrel,  which  they  usually  do  in  a  little  while,  there  never 
was  any  one  so  detestable.  And  one  trouble  is  that  half  the" 
friends  the  girls  pick  out  do  not  suit  Mr.  Black's  views,  and  he 
frets  over  the  acquaintance." 

.  "Such  intimacies  as  you  describe,"  said  Mrs.  Winton,  "do 
not  seem  to  me  worthy  of  the  name  of  friendship.  They  are 
mere  matters  of  excitement  and  sentimentality,  and  girls  who 
allow  their  minds  to  be  occupied  with  such  feelings  scarcely 


i'RIIiNDSniPS  AV    THE  HOME. 

know  what  true   friendship    i.s.     R.,,    n-iendship   is    based  on 
•e  pect;  on  something  truly  worthy  i„  its  object;  it  is  without 
flattery    or  jealousy,   or   selfish   ends.      We    may   have    many 
acquamtances.  but  not  so  very  many  friends;  and  friendship 
...ch  ,3  stable  m  its  nature,  sympathising,  improving,  is  som  -' 
-g  to  be  cultivated  as  a  very  choic     element  in  our  lives      I 
h.nk  we  do  not  sufficiently  try  to  teaca  our  young  pcople'tlv 
true  nature  of  friendship;  how  worthy  it  is  of  our  best "ffort^ 
m.ts  preservation;  that  it  is  not  to  be  promiscuously  bestowed 
on  every  new  acquaintance  who  pleases  us  for  an  hour.     And 
hen,  we  parents   should   help   our   children    in    forming  thci,: 
friendships;  pointing  out  what  is  trustworthy  and  amiable  i„ 
the  young  people  who  are  about  them.     If  Mr.  Black  does  not 
approve  of  these  hasty  friendships  of  his  daughters,  why  no. 
choose   such   friends    as    you    esteem,    point    out   their   good 
quaht.es    mvite  them  to   your   house,  cultivate  the  friencthip 
yourself?     The   impressible   nature    of   the    young   will    soo , 
respond  to  these  advances,  and  you  will  see  your  children  sur- 
rounded  by  safe  and  improving  friends.     Those  of  us  who  take 
pnde  m  cultivating  flowers  do  not  allow  weeds  to  Prow  in  our 
gardens,  eating  up  the  productive  power  of  the  soH,  and  dete- 
noratmg  our  favorite  plants;  but.  too  often,  we  take  no  pains  to 
remove  from  our  children  those  who  may  dwarf  their  opinions 
or  poison  their  hearts."  ' 

"It  is  a  very  difficult  task,"  said  Miriam,  "to  choose  proper 
friendships  even  for  our  young  children.  Sin  is  always  con 
scious  of  its  shamefulness,  and  seeks  to  conceal  itself  Hypor 
nsy  .s  not  a  product  of  middle  age  merely :  it  often  thrives  fully 
Jeveloped  in  the  heart  of  children.  I  think  the  very  worst 
acquamtance  I  ever  had,  perhaps  the  worst  person  I  cNer  knew 
u-as  a  girl  younger  than  myself-indeed.  only  eight  j-ears  old' 
rt  was  before  I  came  to  live  with  Aunt  Sophronia;  and  this 
child,  belonging   to   a   respected   family,  always   smil^ig    and 


i^y  m 


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pretty,  and  well  dressed,  was  esteemed  a  personification  of  grace 
and  a  pink  of  propriety,  while  in  truth  she  was  a  little  bundle  of 
lies,  and  disobedience,  and  badness.  Even  a  little  child  I  dar*? 
not  select  to  be  free'/  with  my  child  until  I  know  something  of 
its  true  character,  as  shown  out  of  the  restraining  company  of 
grown  folks." 

"  Now,"  said  Mrs.  Black,  "  if  it  is  a  matter  so  difficult  to  aid 
the  friendships  of  so  young  children  as  yours,  what  is  one  to  do 
when  there  arc  three  or  four  grown-up  children  like  mine?  It 
really  seems  to  mc  that  the  more  one  opposes  some  new  flame 
of  fancy  which  they  have  picked  up,  the  more  they  are  set  on  it. 
They  will  quarrel  soon  enough  if  left  to  themselves,  but  set 
yourself  against  the  friendship,  and  it  .stands  like  a  rock." 

"I  should  say,"  remarked  Mrs.  Winton,  "that  this  might  be 
because  your  children  had  not  grown  up  expecting  any  super- 
vision of  their  friendships,  and  they  resent  as  an  aggression  what 
you  have  failed  to  exercise  as  a  right.  I  have  never  had  any 
such  trouble  with  Grace.  I  have  taught  her  not  to  make  sudden 
mtimacic^,  but  to  sift  well  the  character  of  new  acquaintances. 
It  has  always  been  understood  that  not  only  her  approval  is 
needed  in  the  choice  of  a  friend  but  mine.  If  I  say  to  her,  '  Do 
not  be  very  intimate  with  such  an  one ;  there  is  only  foundation 
there  for  casual  acquaintanceship,  not  for  intimacy,'  that  is  enough. 
She  has  learned  to  esteem  her  affection  as  a  thing  too  valuable 
to  cast  away  on  the  unworthy :  if  she  detects  the  flaw  she  is 
wary.  Sometimes,  owing  to  this  hypocrisy  of  which  Miriam 
has  just  spoken,  we  have  both  been  deceived ;  but  when  the  true 
character  is  revealed,  .she  slowly  and  surely  but  without  quar- 
relling withdraws  herself  When  she  has  been  away  at  school, 
il  she  found  those  to  whom  she  was  especially  attracted,  I  have 
been  particular  to  invite  them  to  my  house  to  remain  a  while,  for 
I  could  not  think  of  my  young  daughter  having  an  especial 
Criend  who  was  unknown  to  me.     I  wished  to  apply  my  wider 


FRIENDSHIPS  IN  rilE  HOME. 


experience  to  the  subiect  to  wnrn  ^f 

someth  n<T  hrlvhio-  f«  f  ,  •  """b^rs ,  u  there  u\:s 

'"n^  lacking,  to  tiy  and  improve  the  friencJ  th.^     i 
Grace  might  be  a  mutual  benefit  -  '      "'  '^"'  ■''"'' 

"  I  am  glad,"  I  said,  "that  you  have  touched  upon  tint  id  -, 

*ea.  ,,.o.„.„  .,.,..„.  dir^e  c:n,::r,^^  "■= 

.ncloed,  for  my  own  cl.iUron  foslcrcd  rather  H  ■"'• 

si>,>w,„-c„  ,ac.ed  „car.frecdo„,  l:tz  :^>::;T:r 

r-  -  -^"»"  -  s:  1:7/;:;:  -  ;::t: :: 

becomes,  under  the  influence  of  some  si  !v  f.  •     ^    7  ^ 

'.ash.    We  should  „o.  a.low  our  children  intinracies  wift  .ho« 


]f'!t*'!'^''^ 


I 

J 


i  ■ 


If  I 


i'ij^^ln 


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who  are  brought  up  in  a  dangerous  moral  atmosphere.  We 
may  have  in  our  homes  strict  temperance  principles,  and  we  may 
inculcate  these  upon  our  boy;  but  if  we  allow  him  an  intimacy 
at  a  house  where  wine  is  constantly  used,  with  a  lad  whose 
f  ither  esteems  temperance  fanaticism,  and  who  scoffs  at  pledges 
and  temperance  societies,  we  destroy  our  own  work  in  our 
child's  heart,  and  give  him  over  to  the  enemy.  So,  if  we  try  to 
make  our  children  careful  respecters  of  the  Sabbath,  and  allow 
for  their  friends  those  who  make  visits,  give  dinners,  read  idle 
tales,  or  go  out  fishing,  driving  or  gunning  on  the  Sabbath  day, 
we  build  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  tear  down  the  moral 
strength  of  our  child." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Black,  as  the  three  rose  to  go,  "  I  wish  I 
could  put  some  of  all  these  good  things  into  practice  in  manag- 
ing the  friendships  of  my  young  people,  but  I  suppose,  as  usual, 
I  shall  end  with  wishing." 

"  In  that  case,"  returned  Mrs.  Winton,  "you  v/ill  not  rise  to 
the  measure  of  your  maternal  rights  or  duties." 

I  remember  having  some  talk  with  Hester  on  the  subject  of  the 
benefit  the  friendship  of  a  cultivated  and  well-regulated  Family 
may  be  to  other  people,  who  have  not  the  advantage  of  such  a 
household  of  their  own.  I  think  we  ought  to  take  into  the 
circle  of  our  friendships  those  who  seem  lonely  in  this  world; 
God  is  a  God  of  strangers,  and  for  his  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of 
common  human  sympathy,  we  should  bind  to  ourselves  friend- 
less hearts,  because  they  arc  friendless  and  need  our  kindness. 
A  good  home  owes  it,  as  an  expression  of  thankfulness  for  its 
own  hajipiness,  to  try  and  make  up  something  of  the  lack  that 
is  in  other  homes.  Hester  said  she  had  often  known  instances 
where  the  children  of  irreligious,  disorderly,  uncomfortable 
homes,  had  caught  their  first  glimpse  of  the  beauty,  the  good- 
ness, the  s;}nr.t!ty  of  b,nm<\  hy  b'-^ng  .atlmittt^j!  to  -m  acquaintance 
with  some  member  of  such  a  fortunate  family.     Led  by  this 


fUm^'Dsmps  IN  THE   HOME.  jfia 

example,  they  struggled  toward  that  sweetness  and  light  w'ieh 
^.^    cc„  .h„s  revealed  to  thenr,  and  had  reaehedah     ; 
-'luch  tl.e,r  parents  never  knew.     Many  a  youne  man  1.! V 
-cued  , on,  destruction,  and  won  on  lol Z  .7    t    r  ^ 

taught  how  to  attain  domestic  peace  and  sor,,,- ,     v  ■ 

Punty  and  happiness  of  son.e  yLn;  r.,;,. tl  '  ''""'  ""^ 
In  a  Christian  Home,"  said  Hester,  "there  is  the  highest 

TeioTe     „:r''""  '""  '""=  ^'  ""'  -'y  '"'"--  ^-  ''^^ 
hornet  """"""'°"   ^"'"'^  S™""'  Guest-that 

If;UsrM,°'f  ■':"'  "°""  ^=— city  or  God,  and  upon 

walls,  and  prospenty  w.thin  thy  palaces;  for  „,y  brethren  and 
con,pa„,ons'  sake  I  will  „o>v  say.  Peace  be  within  thee 

Sonrettntes  ,  ,„..,te  to  „,y  house  for  suppe-r  .and  for  the  oven- 
">.  all  th     young  people  of  the  neighborhood;  the  Jiurr,  the 
VVn  ons  the  young  Blacks,  Cousin  Ann.  unn,arried  childr^ 
a  I  the  young  people  eon.e  to  „,e  about  onee  a  year,  and  enjoy 
e„«elvesvery,„„ch.     All  the  younger  children       invite  for 
n  afternoon  n,  strawberry-ti.ne.    Lately  ,  had  .nyyoung  p^opl 
together,  and  after  a  while  they  began  to  talk  abo'ttheir  M   ,d 
Some  sa,     they  had  but  one  real  close  friend  outside  of      e^ 
own  fannhes;  others  royally  laid  clain,  to  a  do.e„  or  tw     ^ 
They  <,uest,o„ed  how  long  friendships  were  likely  to  Last      N  ^' 
»..rr  sa,d  ,f  they  were  true  friendships,  not  passi  g  fa„c   ,  .h  , 
wore  part  of  «,e  best  things  of  the  hear,  and  wou  d  last  f„;  v  r 

<hmugl,  fifty  years  „f  „„,„„,  i,„„,„„,^^  ^„j  ,  ^_^__^.^^^  _,  ^,_^^ 

'  ";.''  '"'f  "'-•'•'"  '"^"c"  •"  »Pe"J  a  day  where  there  wen-  three 
-fvated  and  excellent  ladies  who  for  over  sixty  year,  had 


i    '       i 


"1«lf1 


300 


THE    COMPLETE    HOME. 


lived  near  each  other,  and  been  together  engaged  in  philan- 
thropic work.  They  were  similar  in  tastes,  in  sentiments,  in 
means,  and  the  fortunes  of  their  lives  had  been  singularly  alike; 
each  had  been  left  a  widow,  with  one  son,  who  entered  the 
ministry.  These  ladies  belonged  to  the  same  church ;  no  jars 
or  coldness  had  ever  come  between  them ;  their  friendship  was 
a  crown  and  glory  to  their  lives,  and  to  see  them  together  was  one 
of  the  most  agreeable  spectacles  which  I  had  ever  witnessed.  I 
told  my  young  friends  that  absence  and  the  cares  of  life  some- 
times caused  a  real  friendship  to  seem  to  slumber,  but  at  the 
call  of  need,  at  a  demand  for  sympathy  or  aid,  it  rose  again  and 
was  renewed  in  full  strength,  and  so  possibly  some  hortest 
friendships  which  have  seemed  to  pass  out  of  our  lives  are  only 
slumbering,  and  will  be  reawakened  in  all  their  vigor  in  the 
world  to  come;  our  friendships,  like  our  memories,  may  be 
of  our  imperishable  possessions. 

Ned  Burr,  who  is  fond  of  argument,  maintained  that  friend- 
ship was  a  higher  and  nobler  feeling  than  love,  and  likely  to  be 
more  lasting ;  love  was  more  likely  to  be  founded  in  whim,  or  a 
matter  of  emotions,  while  friendship  must  be  grounded  in  knowl- 
edge and  respect. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Grace  Winton :  "  you  are  arguing  un- 
fairly, for  you  are  comparing  real  friendship  and/r/rr  love.  We 
may  Hmcy  a  friendship  as  readily  as  a  love,  and  both,  to  be  true 
and  lasting,  demand  to  be  founded  in  a  knowledge  which  creates 
respect." 

This  called  up  the  question,  What  was  the  ground  of  friend- 
ship? Cousin  Ann's  Dick  remarked  that  he  had  not  experienced 
a  friendship  for  all  the  people  whom  he  knew  pretty  well  and 
deeply  respected.  Though  lu-  \cncrated  President  Edwards,  and 
doated  on  the  poet  Longfellow,  and  regarded   Daniel  Webster 


as  one  of  the  shining  lights  nf  tlu 


i!n!vc> 


rse  vet  if  he  had  been 


living  in  the  same  place  wi 


th  them,  and  all  at  the  same  time,  he 


FRIEXDSIUrS  /.V  THE  HOME. 
.  uOJ 

cou,d^„„t  have  expected  .„  eo.n.  aem.™„,  his  „ost  i„.i„,a.e 

Whereupon  one  held  that  sympathy  and  similarity  of  tastc, 
made  t  e  ehief  bond  of  friendship;  while  another  dedar  d  . 
we  preferred  our  unlik-es,  and  that  the  first  bond  oft  nd 
«s  to  find  a  person  possessing  so„,e  traits  wh.h  ver    aet  T 
n  ourselves.    Gentle  natures  elun,  around  stron^e    tjl     ° 
n  ents;  a    eart  brave  for  any  fate,  and  equal  to  anyLe  C:-    " 
finds  the  less  capable  taking  refuse  in  its  stren„,I,    ■,  • 
-.,  and  not  roel.  to  rock,     a!  so:::::!'   'o  e'^dir: 

wt  :r:  "hT  '"rT' '°  '"■'  '"-'^^  '■'™  -'- 

-..CO,  uf,J--^^^^^^^^ 

on  tile  old  gray  towers  of  AltnviVI-      c  *" 

.-o„r...,,,„,----nen^^^^^^^^^^^ 

»l..ps  between  man  and  man, or  woman  and  woman  or  „n    a' 

d~  thT  '^""•'"'■°*-^^p'-p''>'p-iaim:,  ■;: 

?r:X        "■""'="  ""=  "'""  -P-^^>^-  °f  'ove,  and  „,en  of' 

....i._ofr::~--- 

n  1m       fa„;  ,       "^r"  '""''  '"  "'=  ■''™-<  '"a.  woman, 

B.w.i:';dr;:r  nVCc'rr :"  7-  -  "- 

Jae.  for  the  .sraehtes :  by  it  sh'etcan ttrl  '  Wh:::,',':  "' 
-get  the  friendship  Of  Catherine  Douglass  fo:  her       e  ;' 

L;     I  d"  "■'^"^-^-'-  -ade  of  herown\,,i.e:     :: 
bar  for  the  door  until  that  arm  was   broken  i.    Sl.nl 

^ii^'xrvT""^"'--'^-"- 

Ilermia;        '  '  """  ""^  '''  ^^^  °f  ""'™a"  and 


!!^ 


(  I 


t    , 


302  THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 

•' '  Both  warbling  of  one  song,  botii  in  one  key, 
As  if  our  hands,  our  sides,  voices  and  minds 
Had  been  incorporate. " 

"Yes,"  said  Sara;  "and  where  did  friendship  have  a  more 
complete  expression  than  in  those  '  Ladies  of  Langollen,'  the 
I^ady  Elcanore  Butler  and  Miss  Ponsonby?  who,  forsaking 
relatives,  fortune  and  society  for  each  other,  with  one  faithful 
servant,  retired  to  a  small  cottage  in  Wales,  where  for  fifty  years 
they  lived'  in  unbroken  friendship,  and  were  finally  buried, 
friends  and  devoted  servant,  in  one  grave.  Such  a  friendship 
we  see  between  Madame  de  Staiil  and  Madame  'Recamier : 
these  two  accomplished  women  endured  for  each  other's  sakes 
danger  and  exile  ;  by  each,  self  was  forgotten  for  her  friend ; 
courageous  in  adversity,  faithful  unto  death  and  beyond  death, 
they  proved  true  that  '  a  friend  lovcth  at  all  times.'  " 

"  That,"  said  Hester,  "  is  a  pretty  story  told  us  by  an  old 
M-riter,  Thomas  Heywood,  of  a  fair  maiden  named  Bona,  who 
lived  in  a  cloister  with  a  dear  friend.  This  maiden  friend  lying 
near  to  death,  Bona  laid  herself  by  her  side,  and  earnestly 
prayed  God  to  take  her  life  also ;  and,  in  truth,  the  two  died  on 
the  same  day,  and  were  buried  in  one  grave.  And  Madame 
Swctchine  is  another  instance  of  a  woman  capable  of  enter- 
tainin^x  ^^inccre  and  lasting  friendship;  and  Lacordaire  speaks 
thus  of  her  friend,  the  deaf  mute  farisse,  in  Madame  Swet- 
chine's  fimeral  sermon :  'As  we  watched  the  sad  setting  of  that 
beautiful  star,  I  saw  her  beloved  mute  following  her  with  her 
eyes  from  the  adjoining  chamber,  the  vigilant  sentinel  of  a  life 
which  had  been  so  lavish  of  itself,  and  whose  life  went  out  with 
faithful  friendship  on  the  one  side,  and  grateful  poverty  on  the 
other.'     Madai.ic  Swctchine's  life  was  full  of  friendships." 

"To  the  rescue!"  s.iouted  Ned.  "They  i.v'crwhelni  us  with 
instances !  Let  us  retort  in  kind.  Who  has  not  beard  of  the 
friendship  of  David  for  Jonathan,  and  of  Damon  and  Pythias? 


^f^IEA'DS/f/rS  LV   HIE    HOME.  .^q.. 

PhHoc!!'^  '"  r  "''''"""  ^"'  Agamemnon,  and  (T.dipus  nnd 
Walter  Ralegh  for  Philip  Sidney,  model  of  a  kni.htly  ■...»?" 

"^-.;   cried    another   of  the   young    nien  ;    ''.nd    what   an 

Honest  fnendship  united    Horace   and    Maecenas!     The  poetic 

soul  of  Dante  leaned  on  Guido  Cavalcanti.  and  seven  years  of 

ex:le  were  .spent  by  that  greatest  of  Italians  in  the  house  of  the 

Lord  of  Ravenna.     •  Rare  is  it/  .saj-s  Dante.  '  for  exiles  to  meet 

-tn  fr.ends.      We  see,  also,  Petrarch  flying  fron.  a  world  whe  -c 

almost  every  chord  fell  jarringly  on    his    over-sensitive  spirit, 

and  ,n    the   shades   of  Vauclu.se   finding    consolation  with  his 

nend  Plnhp.     It  is  said  of  Petrarch   that  'his  friends  idolized 

1-n.  and  welcomed   him  with   tears  of  joy  as  if  he  were  an 

angci. 

"I  do  not  remember."  said  Diclc,  "of  a  finer  trio  of  friends 
than   Colendgc,  Wordsworth   and    Lamb.     Chopin,   the   com- 
poser   was   a    man    sickly,   ardent,    irritable,   to   whose   over- 
wrought mind  even  ordinary  hTe  was  an  intense  pain.     He  was 
a  man  to  suffer  until  he  went  mad,  unless  some  shield  could  be 
mterposed  between    him   and   the   world.     Such   a   shield"  he 
found  m  his  friend  Liszt.     P^or  years  Liszt  sheltered  him  from 
cnt,asm.   and    business   care,  and    curiosity;   soothed    him    in 
death;   and    finally  became   his    interpreter    to   the    world    by 
vvntmg  his  life,  showing  what,  among  the  jarring  discords  of 
us  c,,stence.   had   been   the   tender    harmonics   of   his   soul. 
M.Iton,  neglected  by  his  daughters  and   unloved  by  his  wife 
bereaved  of  Cromwell  and  taunted  by  the  Duke  of  York,  found' 
consolation  in  Andrew  Ma.-vel_perhaps  better  fitted  than  any 
man   of  that   day  to   syn,pathize  with  his   aspirations,  his   r- 
scarches.or  his  lofty  imaginings;  while  a  healthful  quaintness 
and  quietness  of  spirit  kept  him  fresh  and  strong.     So  many 
and  devoted  have  h.en  the  fi^icnd.hips  of  men,  that  f,cn,U^p 
ims  been  by  some  asserted  to  be  especially  a  man's  emotion  " 


I  "I      >.  '•'»!(' 


Ifl 


■■;r 


'.'liEl 

i  \ 


'    1 


I"  t 


;  1 


304 


7//iE'    COMPLETE   HOME. 


"  There  is  a  third  party  to  the  contest,"  I  said,  laughing.  "  I 
will  tell  you  of  some  remarkable  friendships  between  men  and 
women.  Beyond  the  natural  love  of  brothers  and  sisters  was 
the  tie  of  friendship  between  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb,  and 
between  the  poet  VVhittier  and  his  youngest  sister,  of  whom  he 
writes : 

"  '  But  still  I  wait  with  ear  and  eye 

For  something  gone  which  should  be  nigh; 
A  loss  in  all  familiar  things.' 

"  The  element  of  a  lofty  friendship  entered  into  the  married 
life  of  Lord  and  Lady  Rusgel,  the  Arctic  explorer  Franklin  and 
his  wife  ;  also  of  Roland  and  his  wife.  Shah  Jehan,  who  set  up 
over  his  beloved  wife  the  Taj,  that  '  dream  in  marble,'  the  won- 
der of  the  world,  records  in  it  friendship  as  well  as  marital  love. 
Auguste  Comte  declares  that  the  finest  ideals  of  friendship  are 
exhibited  between  man  and  woman,  but  Sydney  Smith  says 
that  few  of  these  instances  have  been  shown  by  Saxons.  The 
golden-mouthed  Chrysostom  was  cluored  by  a  saintly  Olyni- 
pias,  and  St.  Jerome  was  helped  on  his  way  by  Paula.  Doubt- 
less the  gracious  Apostle  John  was  comforted  by  the  friendship 
of  that  godly  mother  of  a  godly  household,  whom  he  greets  as 
the  Elect  Lady.  Michael  Angelo's  genius  took  higher  flights, 
inspired  by  Vittoria  Colonna.  Dr.  Donne  devotes  his  finest 
verses  to  his  friend,  Mrs.  Herbert,  the  tnothcr  of  the  quaint, 
sweet  poet;  by  the  death-bed  of  Locke  bent  his  friend.  Lady 
Mashem  ;  and  Cowper  would  have  been  a  wrecked  man  without 
the  friendship  of  Mrs.  Throckmorton,  and  Lady  Austen,  and 
Mary  Unwin.  What  a  contrast  of  character  met  in  the  friend- 
ship of  Hannah  More  and  Garrick!" 

"  I  have  arrived  at  sonic  conclusions,"  said  Dick,  who  had  been 
diligently  dotting  down  idja.;  on  a  sheet  of  paper.  "  Listen. 
Friendship  is  one  of  the  noljL;st  emotions  of  the  heart;  it  has 
divine  warrant  and  example,  and  is  needful  to  our  proper  moral 


FRIENDSIIirS  m   THE  HOME 

deveIop„,e„..    ,t  Is  capable  of  elevating  us  by  a  worthy  object  ■ 
m  haste,  ,t  may  be  repented  at  leisure.     Parents  should    with 

good  ,n  the  home  ,s  g.ven  a  broader  circle  of  influence.     Friend- 

11 .;:: ':"""  "^^^  "'^^  °"  "^-^'^  -^  ^"-^-^^^^ 

,t tno  1  :  '"  """'=  ".very  virtue  of  the  difference: 

■t  has  no  hmits  of  age,  of  race  or  of  sex.  True  friendshio  is 
no..her  selfish,  fickle  nor  established  for  self-interest  d  a  U 
only  counterfeit   friendship  exhibits   these  qualities.    A    "e" 

Tn :  r  "r "; "'""'  ^-^ '-  ^"--"^^  ■■  ^™-  -■-'  y 

or  .nsens,bly,  and  ,s  lasting  as  the  soul  which  feels  it.  Friend- 
■P  .s  the  peer,  the  "noble  brother,'  of  love.  Friendship  has 
been  equally  exhibited  by  both  men  and  women,  and  has  given 
equally  remarkable  exhibitions  between  man  and  woman  m^ 
and  man,  woman  and  woman." 

And  M  ended  our  long  talk  about  Friendship. 


t.      { 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

GOOD   MANNERS   IN   THE   HOME. 
WHAT   AUNT  SOPHRONIA    THINKS    IS    FAMILY   COURTESY. 

I^RACE  WINTON  came  in   to  see  me  for  a  little  while 
yesterday,  and  when  she  left  I  fell  to  thinking  of  the 
remark  made  by  a  famous  essayist:  "A  beautiful  form 
is  better  than  a  beautiful  face,  and  beautiful  behavior  is 
better  than  a  beautiful  form :    it  gives  a  higher  pleasure  than 
pictures  or  statues ;  it  is  the  finest  of  the  fine  arts."     Grace  is 
lovely  in  face  and  form,  but  lovelier  still  in  her  manners.     Now, 
in  what  does  this  charm  of  manner  consist?     Is  it  that  she 
understands  ^nd  puts  in  practice  certain  rules  of  good-breeding, 
which  have  obtained  place  by  the  common  consent  of  society 
for  many  years?     It  is  something  higher  than  that — it  is  what 
Dr.  Witherspoon  explains  as  "  true  courtesy,  which  is  real  kind- 
ness kindly  expressed." 

I  remember  when  Mary  Watkins  was  a  little  girl,  Mrs.  Smal- 
ley,  her  mother,  came  to  me  one  day,  and  said :  "  Miss  Sophro- 
nia,  I  want  Mary  to  have  good  manners,  and  to  know  how  to 
behave  herself  when  she  is  away  from  home;  I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  of  some  real  good  book  on  etiquette." 

"If  you  wish  Mary  to  have  really  good  manners,  Mrs.  Smal- 
ley,"  I  replied,  "  don't  let  her  see  a  paper  or  a  book  on  etiquette 
It  has  been  well  said,  '  The  effect  of  books  on  etiquette  is  to 
make  one  think  of  himself,  rather  than  of  others;  while  thinking 
of  others,  rather  than  of  self,  is  the  essence  of  true  courtesy.' 
ury  a  book  crowded  with  rules  as  to  how  to 


COOD  M,.V.V;.^s  W   THE   HOME. 

;"-  »"'■  »"-^-'  ran, ;.  *e';:  •  c;r  ;:r  -  ''^™''' 

P'oporly  in  .i,„p,e  K-,„d„,3,  ,„  ^  J      ^  1^^^  '^   f^".  -  to  reply 

"  Well,  but  how  will  Marv  learn       T  ""^  '°  '""■' 

.    "GcoU  ™„„ers,  Mrs  sl  errtrrT" " 
"  yoars.    Vhey  are  not  things  vvh.e    c"  n  b       T  '"°"'™"'  '"' 
'lo'vn  at  pleasure     Thr„  ,  '"''"  "P  ■''"d  l^i'l 

-  -r  ,..„„„sphore  wherever  we  are'   I  '  mI'    si"      ""'  "' 

""cial  life  amontr  tho  fr„i        .T    .  ^    P'^''  '''"''""t  of 

'"'"■    The  nrst  !nd  h  2st1  iTof """":  '""  '''^'-  -"  '°  ^= 
»'>•■''''- thy  „,,!,,,,„    ;j.°/;;^   n-ners  is,  .Thon 

toolc  on  c„urt-.,v  is  H,.  n^!        .  °"'>'  "^"^  '"''"'bte 

others,  to  enltivate  C^H  "'"  ""  "'"  ™y  disturb 

-™es.rcon::a;;:,::,^::rbl:ttlr="-*^■^ 

-«inK  the  ordinary  topies  of  the  dw  !l  .  "'",'"  ""■ 
-ill  "".=  .he  „„„,berless  little  actt  JnH  y^  '"''"'"'"'' 
■"■•">-  ..P  Bood  n,anners,  and  w  I  e  Lr.  ,r  ™""'  "'"■^" 
nen-s  or  afl-eetations.    The  fi L  "!       I  """'°'"  ""•"' 

K""<l  manner,  should  he  P'"'  "''  "=^'=l«="  "f 

its  h„„,e  ,„„ ; : "  d ;  ■""""• """  "■=  ''"'I  *<»■"  -nsider 

.l>^-  c-n„.esi;.,  onife"'         "  "'"^  ""-^-^  '■'  -"  P"'  ■•"  P-c.,ee 


^1 


III 


,:  ;,-|  il 


m 


308 


T//E   COMPLETE   HOME. 


Mrs.  Smalley  suffered  herself  to  be  persuaded  not  to  %(A 
Mary  a  book  on  etiquette,  which,  probably,  would  have  made 
her  merely  affected  and  self-centred:  a  sort  of  puppet,  not 
spontaneously  doing  the  right  thing  at  the  right  time,  but  going 
in  rotation  through  the  practice  of  certain  half-apprehended 
rules,  which  would  not  fit  one-tenth  part  of  the  circumstances 
in  which  she  was  placed.  If  we  went  to  live  in  France,  we 
v'ould  wish  to  know  the  French  language,  so  that  we  could 
understand  all  that  was  said  to  us  and  know  how  to  reply.  We 
should  not  wish  to  trust  to  learning  by  heart  a  phrase-book, 
the  sentences  of  which  might  or  might  not  suit  our  needs.  So 
good  manners  are  to  be  the  language  of  our  homes  and  of  our 
lives,  and  not  a  mere  phra?e-book  etiquette  which  might  or 
might  not  fit  our  exigencies. 

Parents  cannot  be  too  partici'lar  in  training  their  children 
into  good  manners  from  their  earliest  years.  If  such  training 
is  neglected  in  childhood,  the  early  want  will  be  patent  all 
through  life.  The  parent  can  hardly  give  the  child  an  inheri- 
tance which  is  more  valuable,  while  in  itself  it  costs  nothing. 
In  the  business  of  life,  I  know  nothing  which  has  a  higher  pecu- 
niary value. 

"  You  paid  a  hundred  dollars  too  much,"  said  a  gentleman  to 
an  insurance  agent,  who  had  been  settling  with  a  lady  for  the 
damages  of  a  fire.  "  It  was  her  valuation,"  said  the  aeent 
"  She  believed  it  to  be  correct,  and  I  could  not  question  it :  her 
manners  were  so  perfect.  It  would  have  been  money  in  my 
pocket  if  I  had  been  dealing  with  some  rude  boor." 

"  Manners  makyeth  men,"  wrote  Wykham,  an  ancient  author, 
and  a  lapse  of  years  does  not  make  an  alteration  in  this  testi- 
mony. We  hear  Emerson  rising  up  to  declare :  "  Give  a  boy 
address  and  accomplishments,  and  you  give  him  the  mastery  of 
places  and  fortunes  wherever  he  goes." 
A  wealthy  gentleman  brought  into  his  library  a  costly  sub- 


II!.'' 

Ill 


.mm 


COOD  MANArERS  W  THE   HOME.  „.q 

5Cription  book.     "  Mv  de-ir  "  «-„vi  u-       -r 
copy  of  .ha.  .or'J  ^^ij:^ ^^f'l  "  ^^^^^'^^^V  had  a 
™anne.  of  ..e  ,ad  who  soM      J^^Jlltl'  .l"'  ""^ 
true  pleasure  .o  purchase  ,.."  ^    '  ""'  "  """*  " 

If  we  wish  to  mould  clay,  or  nlas.er  „r  P    • 
any  shape,  we  ™us.  no.  wai.'  „.iu        a°f  hl:^  I'  7  """'■  '""' 
into  the  mould,  for  .hen  i.  will  be  full  o    „?        f "  ""  ■""  " 
and  Will   not  we.,   take  .he  dele      orm  T  f™"'"""^'^'' 
mould  the  ho-,rf  .„^      -A-  ^°  '^  ^^  wish  to 

nnti.  a      i,;  ■    raff!;      'T T'  ™"""^'  ^'  ""='  "«  "" 

^  i-Jiiia  IS  half-grovun  before  we  bcn-m  f-li«  <■    ■   • 

-"-  begin  with  .he  ,ou„,  chiW.     G  S    i^  JaT"'"''  •  .*' 
smile  and  a  loving  word  .h-,^.  „,    ,  '"^^  "'"'  ^ 

Teach  it  to  .a.e  ^^^Z.  T:^  ^^  ^r  T' 
«tur„    .ho    look   and  word  of  thanks.     Ccl  ^ "' '" 

treasures,  to  pity  and  soothe  any  one  who  is  7l,  .  ' 

^^^::;re^^::r- ?^--^ 

-earehuLrdsoLyrte^L;;;;^^^^^^ 

^-eniyfeei;,:.torm::::::::^,r::rr--'- 

they  can  only  be  manly  if  they  starnr,  t  7  ""  '  """ 
bawl  instead  of  speakin'g,  .e  TJ  „  h7fo  T  ^-^'^^  -"'-*-^'. 
thcvnll   ,>  f       -I         ,  •  "^"'^  'o"^  Iheir  own  way— and 

inc  Doy,  that  good  manners  are  of  the  imnI.V«f  ^f 

that  there  are  a  thousand  gentle  and  0^  '""'^  "^^^  ' 

Ion.  to  true  .en.  and  not  totp,:      Z  ~^^^^  ^- 

^...toboww.hgrace.tobe,:ickand!:bt^rtc:^:: 
a  serv.ce,  to  use  respectful   language  to  avoid   „/ '""^^'"'^  "^ 

and  haste,  is  to  be  ..ntlem.n!^-  \t-  ""'^  ""''^^ 

to  be  a  boor      FrCnt  P^"'"'  '^^'^^  graces  is 

boor.     Frank,  genial,  graceful,  self-forgetting  manners 


310 


THE    COMPLETE  I/OME. 


I 


Will  make  up  for  a  lack  of  fortune  or  beauty,  ana  their  possessor 
will  be  welcome  wherever  he  goes. 

Helen  has  been  very  particular  to  train  her  children  to  be 
polite,  and  she  was  greatly  tried  when  Tom  reached  the  crisis 
which  I  have  just  mentioned,  and  thought  when  he  laid  by  knee- 
breeches  and  rocking-horses  it  was  time  to  dispense  with  good 
manners.  He  was  fond  of  teasing,  and  he  teased  Hannah  and 
his  little  sisters  and  the  cat  and  the  baby.  I  had  a  talk  ^vith 
him  one  day  about  this.  I  told  him  it  was  a  mark  of  a  shallow, 
weak,  unmanly  spirit  to  fiqd  pleasure  in  giving  annoyance.  I 
taught  him  what  Wordsworth  says  : 

"  Never  to  blend  our  pleasure  or  our  pride 
VVuh  sorrow  to  tlie  meanest  thing  that  feels," 

and  then  I  gave  him  a  little  book,  where  I  had  him  write  down 
several  sentences  on  the  subject,  as:  "Fair  manners  are  the 
mantle  of  fair  minds;  "  "Civility  costs  nothing,  and  buys  every- 
thmg;"  "A  true  gentlem  m  is  recognized  by  his  regard  for  the 
nghts  and  feelings  of  others,  even  in  matters  the  most  trivial;  • 
"A  rude  man  is  generally  assumed  to  be  a  bad  man." 

"But,  Aunt  Sophronia."  said  Ton,  "don't  you  tl.ink  that 
people  sometimes  act  worse  than  they  feel  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "a  man's  manners  may  be  less  gracious  than 
h.s  heart  is  true  and  kindly,  but  incurably  bad  manners  are  the 
outcome  of  a  bad.  thoughtless,  cruel  heart.     Take  notice  Tom 
that  the  well-feeling  man  does  not  tryio  act  worse  than  he  feels' 
he  tries  to  act  as  well  as  he  can.     No  station  in  life,  no  poverty 
no  lack  of  cultivation,  can  force  a  person  to  be  ill-mannered' 
Some  of  the  most  polite  and   graceful  things  that  have  ever 
been  said,  and  some  of  the  most  truly  polite  acts  that  were 
ever  performed,  were  by  poor,  unlettered  people,  whose  acts  were 
the  outcome  of  generous,  sympathetic  hearts." 

Hesfer,  who  was   sitting  with   us.  said:  "There  are  many 


r  possessor 


GOOD   MANNERS  IN    THE   HOME 

grown  persons  who  need  to  be  taken  to  task,  as  much  as  Ton. 
for  finding  their  pleasure  in  hurting  other  people's  feelin-^s     Ho 
calls  h.s  way  teasing;  they  call  theirs  satire;  in  conversation 
they  thmk  themselves  very  smart  and  bright  when   they  are 
nd.culmg  somebody,  turning  their  remarks  into  triflin^.  sneer 
mg  at  their  opinions,  or  telling  some  unkindly  anecdote    or 
trying  to  bring  into  notice  some  unpleasant  circumstance     Now 
these  people,  either  as  writers  or  talkers,  are  not  half  so  clever 
as  they  think  themselves.     It  needs  only  self-conceit  and  malice 
to  discover  flaws.     Talent  and  generosity  are  needed  to  recog- 
nue  talent  and  generosity  in  our  companions;  all  is  discord 
to  an  ear  that  has  no  idea  of  harmonies,  but  it  needs  a  musical 
ear  to  delight  in  music.     These  satirical  people  are  generally 
really   ignorant,    and    talk    sharply    about    others   to    prevent 
any  searching   of  ..eir  own    shallowness;    they  are   cowards, 
too;  if  you   notice,  they  never  attack  those  whom  they  know 
to  be  keen  wUs,  and  able  to  repay  them  in  their  own  coin  but 
their  victims  are  the  timid,  the  young,  the  ignorant,  the  very 
ones  whom  courtesy  would  urge  us  to  encourage,  to  entertain 
and  console.     The  old  duellist,  we  say.  with  his  order  of  <pistols 
and  coffee  for  two.'  was  a   coward,  but  the  satirist  in  society 
sinks  below  the  levrl  of  the  duellist  into  that  of  an  assassin  " 

•You  have  touched  upon  the  subject  of  good  manners  in 
conversation."  said  Miriam  :  "  we  cannot  be  too  careful  to  avoid 
themes  which  will  be  painful  to  those  with  whom  we  converse 
and  to  avoid  these  requires  thoughtfulness.     How  ill-manneriy' 
to  discuss  deformities  before  some  person  who  is  deformed-  or 
to  express  dislike  of  foreigners  before  a  foreigner;  or  to  com- 
plain that  it  is  too  much  trouble  to  entertain  those  who  are 
hard  of  hearing  when  such  persons  are  near  you!     The  truly 
k.nd,  thoughtful  heart  has  none  of  these  selfish  evils  to  com- 
plain ..and  so  in  conversation,  as  in  action,  kindness  makes 
courtesy." 


;    f 


',  I 


312 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


"A  writer  so  old  as  Epictetus,"  said  Hester,  "  gives  us  some 
good  rules  for  proper  manners  in  conversation.  He  says : '  If  you 
converse,  do  not  let  it  be  about  such  vulgar  things  as  dogs, 
horses,  racing,  fighting ;  avoid  foolish  and  immoderate  laughter, 
and  vulgar  descriptions  of  entertainments,  impurity,  display,  and 
all  egotistical  remarks." 

"  I  have  here,"  I  said,  "  in  one  of  my  favorite  old  authors,  a 
few  monitions  concerning  our  conversation.     '  Clothe  not   thy 
language  either  with  obscurity  or  affectation ;  in  the  one  there 
is  too  much  darkness,  in  the  other  too  much  lightness;  he  that 
speaks  from  the  understanding  to  the  understanding  does  best. 
Know  when  to  speak,  lest  while  thou  showest  wisdom  in  not 
.speaking,  thou  betray  thy  folly  in  too  long  silence.    If  thou  art  a 
fool,  thy  silence  is  wisdom;  but  if  tlioi*  art  wise,  thy  too  long 
silence  is  folly.     As  too  many  words  from  a  fool's  mouth  give  the 
wise  no  time  to  speak,  so  too  long  a  silence  in  the  wise  gives  the 
fool  time  to  speak,  and  so  makes  thee  responsible  for  his  folly.' " 
"  Wc  must  heed  all  these  monitions  with  regard  to  circum- 
stances," .said  Miriam.    "  We  must  suit  our  conversation  to  those 
with  whom  we  are.     If  they  can  talk  of  and  enjoy  only  di.s- 
cussions  of  domestic  animals,  and  the  common  affairs  of  life, 
then  we  are  in  politeness  bound  to   indulge  them  in  spite  of 
Epictetus.     Why  talk  of  the  books  and  art  for  which  they  do 
not   care?     On   the  other   hand  we  must  converse  with   little 
children  to  teach  them  to  converse :  what  they  say  may  have 
much  of  foolishness  in  it,  but  by  conversation  we  educate  them 
at  last  to  speak  improvingly.     True  politeness  in  conversation 
I   think  is  to  try  and  interest  those  with  whom  wc  converse, 
u.iJ  if  it  is  our  part  to  improve  and    instruct,  wc  .should  not 
jK-rforn    this  in  a  burdensome  manner.     It  is  dangerous  to  fdi 
into  a  habit  of  absorbing  conversation  and  talking  too  much ; 
so  also  wc  should  avoid  a  listless  manner,  as  if  it  y.'cre  hardly 
Rrortli  our  while  to  talk  with  our  present  company." 


] 


GOOD   MANNERS  IN  THE  HOME.  3,3 

"I  have  seen  those."  I  said,  "who  prided  themselves  on 
waving  good  manners,  and  who  yet  were  in  conversation  cen- 
sorious and  gossiping:  errors  quite  as  much  to  be  condemned  as 
the  sarcasm  of  which  Hester  has  been  complaining." 

"Then."  said  Hester,  "the  rule  must  be  to  keep  the  mind 
well  mformed,  as  a  store-l.^use  filled  with  treasures,  gather  up 
what  we  can  upon  all  subjects,  and  so  we  shall  be  able  to  suit  all 
tastes.  Then  let  us  cultivate  our  hearts  that  they  may  teach  us 
mstinctively  to  put  ourselves  in  the  place  of  others,  to  divine 
what  will  please,  pain  or  benefit,  and  the  heart  shall  draw  out 
from  the  mind,  as  a  wise  almoner,  the  bounties  which  are  needed 
and  shall  distribute  them  where  they  shall  most  benefit.  Good 
manners,  in  conversation  as  in  other  things,  are  a  mutual  product 
of  the  head  and  of  the  heart." 

One  day  Mary  Watkins  was  visiting  me.  and  she  said  that 
the  manners  of  Miriams  children  pleased  her  much,  and  that 
she  was  desirous  of  bringing  up  her  children  to  be  attractive  in 
their  ways :  how  should  she  do  it  ? 

"The  first  thing."  I  said,  "will  be  always   to  exhibit   good 
manners  in  their  presence.      If  we  desire  to  have  children  or 
servants  mannerly,  we  must  fii.  t  of  all  set  them  an  example. 
Doctor  Guthrie  has  some  valuable  observations  on  this  point  ■ 
he  says  in  Scotland  if  you  ask  a  laboring  man  how  you  shall  get 
to  a  place,  he  is  as  like  as  not  to  roar  out.  'Follow  your  nose  I' 
Hester  says  she  fears  the  Doctor  is  libelling  his  countrymen 
for  when  in  Scotland  she  met  with  the  greatest  courtesy  cvery^ 
where.     However  that  may  be.  the  Doctor  says  the  manners  of 
the  poorer  classes  are  rude  and  unkindly,  and  it  is  bccau.se  they 
have  been  always  rudely  and  harshly  treated  by  their  superiors 
m  station,     He  says  that  when  he  was  in  Paris  a  banker  accom- 
panied him  to  find  a  boarding-house.     A  servant  girl  came  to 
the  door,  and  the  banker,  taking  off  his  hat  and  bowing  low 
addressed  her  as  '  niademoLselle  '  and  told  hi.s  business.    The  maid 


i 
I   ^1    ■ 


314 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


:  n 


r  ii; 


on  the  other  hand  was  the  very  pink  of  courtesy ;  and  thus  he 
found  it  in  France:    the  servants,  the  children,  the  poor,  all 
treated    with   elegant    politeness,   and    being    in    return    polite. 
If  we  want  anything  of  our  children,  or  our  servants,  we  should 
not,  merely  because  we  have  the  authority  to  command,  give 
,     a  bold  order ;  but  why  not  use  the  gentle  '  Please,'  '  Will  you 
do  this  ?  "  I  should  like  you  to  do  that,'  '  Oblige  me  with  that.' 
When  service  is  rendered,  we  are  not  to  take  it  in  silence,  curtly, 
rudely,  because  we  had  a  right  to  the  service ;  but  it  is  easy  to 
say, 'Thanks,'  or  'I  am  obliged,'  or  'Oh,  that  is  very  nicely 
done.'      These  little  evcry-day  courtesies  are  called  the  small 
change  of  life ;  but  we  should  be  badly  off  in  trade  if  we  had 
no  small  change,  and  must  always  deal  with  twenty-dollar  bills; 
while  the  small  change  mounts  up  to  the  great  sum  in  a  lifetime. 
If  parents   have  plenty  of  this  small  change  of  politeness  on 
hand,  it  will  be  put  in  circulation  in  the  family:  the  children 
will  pay  it  out  to  each  other,  to  servants,  to  playmates,  and  with 
it  family  peace  and  family  affection  will  be  largely  purchased 
I  have  known   Miriam's  two  servants  to  refuse  a  place  with 
larger  wages,  because  they  said  they  had  rather  live  where  there 
were  mannerly  children  even  if  pay  were  less.     Cultivate   in 
your   children   the  pleasant   manners  of  a  morning  greeting, 
saying  '  Good-morning '  with  a  smile  and  a  bow  ;  such  a  greet- 
ing   makes    the  whole  day  go  more  pleasantly.     Do  not    let 
the  children  go  to  bed  without  a  good-night  kiss:    they  are 
never  too  old  for  that.     And  how  do  we  know  but  during  the 
night-watches  some  one  of  the  family-band  may  take  the  long 
and  solemn  journey  to  the  land  that  lies  very  far  off? 

"  Let  the  pleasant  greetings,  morning  and  night,  to  all  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  be  a  part  of  family  custom ;  then  your  chil- 
dren, going  out  into  the  world,  will  carry  these  gracious  home- 
manners  with  them,  and  use  them  to  teachers,  employers  and 
friends.     Teach  your  children  to  think  for  others:   to  notice 


GOOD    MANNERS  IN  THE  HOME  ot  = 

When  one  is  looking  for  anything,  and  to  join  with  alacrity  in 
the  search;  to  car^^.  unasked,  a  fan  to  one  who  is  heated  o, 
draw  up  an  easier  chair   for  one  who  is   tired;    to  bring  'the 

N  r  B  :  f'''''  '  "  ''-'  "^  ''"''  ''  '-^^^'-  '  noticed 
^om  a  ch,Ily  walk,  just  in  tin.e  to  take  her  place  at  the  tea-table. 
Ned  knew  that  ber  feet  ..ust  be  cold ;  he  said  nothing,  but  went 
•nto  the  k,tchen.  took  a  hot  brick  fro.  the  back  of  ihe  ran  " 
wrapped  it  in  a  paper,  and  placed  it  under  his  mother's  f^t' 
^  ^  ca.  as  he  was  about  going  up-stairs,  he  met  their  cham-' 
-  A  who  ,s  rather  elderly,  carrying  a  large  pitcher  of  water- 
hequ.edytook  it  from  her  hand,  and  carried  it  to  her  room-' 

door.     These  are  the  kind  of  generous  little  courtesies  which 
make  ,,f,  g,  ,,3i,y  .^  ^^^.^.^^^  _^^^^  .^  ^^^^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^ 

ch.ldren  must  grow  into  them  as  a  second  nature.     Cousin  Ana 
was  always  very  particular  in  training  her  boys  to  show  good 
manners  at  Home.     She  said  if  they  show  them  there,  they  will 
show  .hem  everywhere.    Home  is  the  place  where  true  politeness 
s.     She  never  passed  by  an  infraction  of  good  manners  i„ 
l.ttlc  th.ngs.     She  .said:  '  If  they  are  guilty  of  some  great  rude- 
ness, they  will  notice  it.  blush  for  it.  and  amend  themselves  but 
't  .s  the  accumulation  of  small  traits  of  ill-manners  which' will 
make  them  truly  disagreeable.'     The  boys  were  never  allowed 
o  .speak  to  or  of  any  one  by  a  nick-na,ne.  unless  it  was  some 
k.ndly.  .sporfve  term.    They  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  being 
profane  as  of  calling  their  father  'boss.'  'governor'  or  'old  man 
or   tl..,r   n,other   « old   woman'   or   the   'missis.'     They   nevr 
pushed  past  one  to  get  into  a  room,  slammed  a  door  or  shut  ]t 
m  any  one's  face,  or  broke  into  a  sentence  while  any  one  was 
srn^a  .n        They  dared  not  come  into  a  room  with  caps  on. 
nuddy  boots  or  pantaloons  rolled  up.     If  entering  a  room  with 
any  one.  they  stepped  aside  to  let  thun  pass;  they  never  took 
tlie  best  cha.r,  the  best  scat  by  the  light  or  fire,  but  offered  it  to 


!M, 


Im: 


!«     11 


'6 


T//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


others.  At  table  they  did  not  reach  across  to  help  themselves, 
nor  pick  for  the  best  or  largest  pieces,  nor  return  again  and 
again  greedily  to  the  favorite  dish.  When  spoken  to  out-of- 
doors,  they  lifted  their  hats ;  they  bowed  politely  to  those  whom 
they  met,  and  never  left  the  handles,  Mr.,  Mrs.,  Sir,  off  persons' 
names.  They  were  instructed  to  show  their  gentlemanly  man- 
ners to  their  mother,  their  sister  and  the  maids ;  to  treat  age, 
veakness,  little  children,  goodness  and  station  with  due  honor 
and  sympathetic  regard.  Their  fun  at  home  was  easy  and 
happy,  but  not  boisterous  or  rowdyish ;  they  did  not  shout 
when  they  spoke  nor  contradict  bluntly  if  any  one  were  wrong. 
Yet  in  training  them  in  all  these  little  things,  their  mother  was 
genial,  while  she  was  firm ;  she  never  forgot  or  ignored,  but  a 
witty  word,  a  look,  a  gentle  hint  served  to  recall  them  to  duty, 
or  remind  them  of  a  neglect. 

I  have  frequently  been  pained  when  I  walked  abroad  to  notice 
the  lack  of  reverence  prevalent  among  our  young  people.  I 
had  an  occasion  for  freeing  my  mind  on  this  subject  lately, 
and  I  hold  an  occasion  for  speaking  clearly  your  thought  is  a 
thin[,  to  be  thankful  for.  It  happened  on  this  wise.  I  met 
James  Frederick  Black  as  I  left  my  front-door.     He  asked  mc : 

"  What  is  the  grand  primary  virtue  for  youth  ?  " 

I  replied  to  him  :  "  Reverence." 

I  met  James  Frederick  again  as  I  returned  to  my  door,  and 
he  asked  me:  "  In  what  virtue  arc  young  people  most  lacking?  " 

I  made  answer  to  him  .  "  In  reverence." 

Then  in  the  evening  James  Frederick  came  to  .sec  mc  as 
he  frequently  does,  and  he  said :  "Aunt  Sophronia,  it  seems  to 
mc  that  you  find  the  circle  of  virtues  a  rather  small  one." 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "I  compass  it  all  with — reverence;  and 
what  a  notable  and  noble  virtue  it  is !  Look  you,  James  Fred- 
erick, it  is  a  virtue  that  is  going  out  of  fashion.  Without  it, 
character   is   a   glittering   superstructure,   without   any   stronj; 


GOOD  MANNERS- IN  THE  HOME. 


317 


foundation.  When  I  see  a  young  person  who  proclaims  by 
word  or  act  that  he  has  no  reverence,  I  see  one  who  will  not 
stand  a  severe  test  of  character. 

"This  being  a  fundamental  grace,  it  must  be  laid  early  in  the 
child's  heart  by  the  parents,  at  home.     And  here  many  parents 
fail.     They  find   a   saucy  sharpness   amusing.     God   has    sur- 
rounded the  child  with  the  venerable,  and  yet  he  is  not  tacWit 
to  venerate.     Around  him  are  the  hoary  heads  of  age  before 
which  God  has  bidden  him  to  rise;  and,  instead   of  that    he 
tramps  in,  riding  a  cane,  and  roars,  'That's  my  chair  you've  -ot 
grandma!'  or  he   hits   old   Betty  while  she  is  putting  on ''his 
stockings.     God's  ministers  are  venerable,  as  ambassadors  from 
the  holy  One.     The  rising  )-outh  hear  their  looks,  and  manners 
and  peculiarities  criticised,  their  sermons  carped  at,  their  failings 
magnified.     E.xpericnce  is  venerable.     '  Honor  thy  father  and 
thy  mother,'  is  the  word,  and  a  smile  goes  round  some  giddy 
circle  when  the  youth  remarks  that  'he  could  put  his  father  up 
to  a  thing  or  two ! ' 

"The  house  of  God  is  venerable,  and  idle  triflers  sit  there 
staring,  smiling,  whispering,  irreverent  to  the  place.  The  book 
of  God  is  venerable,  and  the  flippant  jester  adorns  his  tale  with 
some  misapplication  of  the  inspired  word;  the  breath  of  doubt 
blows  across  the  divine  pages,  the  open  unbeliever  mocks,  the 
secret^  unbeliever  cavils,  and  the  soul  which  should  have' put 
it.  sandals  off  stands  booted  and  spurred  to  wonder  at  the  bush 
of  flame. 

"  Pious  zeal  is  to  be  reverenced,  and  yet  youth  dares  and  is 
permitted  to  ridicule  the  teacher's  earnest  plea,  or  to  disregard 
the  teacher's  request,  or  .it  inattentive  in  the  class,  while  the 
heavenward  way  is  being  pointed  out. 

"And  here  behold  this  youth  who  has  no  reverence.     Ignorant 

of  the  wavs   nf  life    \\\a   nan-nf-'  '"-i-  -' !  1      >        '  • 

.-   -I  iiiL,  ui..  parents  m^v  snuuid  atay  ms  stop.^ ;  but 
that  law  he  has  not  been  taught  to  revere,  and  he  holds  it 


f'i     tf 

'H 


1^ 


318 


r//£    COMPLETE  HOME. 


lightly.  The  commandment  of  God  should  be  a  lamp  unto  his 
fjct,  but  that  he  did  not  write  reverently  on  his  heart.  The 
teachings  and  example  of  the  good  should  be  his  guide-posts, 
but  those  he  never  revered,  nor  meant  to  copy. 

"What  a  grace  he  lacks!  and  instead  thereof  the  flippant  leer, 
the  affected  contempt,  when  possibly  earth  holds  nothing  more 
contemptible  than  himself     There  is  no  dignity  in  one  who 
knows  no  reverence ;  honoring  nothing,  of  course  they  do  not 
honor  themselves.     Growing  up  all  one's  days  in  a  reckless 
irreverence,  it  is  a  strange  lesson  for  them  to  learn  to  worship  sin- 
cerely the  Lord  their  God ;  if  saved  at  ail,  they  must  be  pulled 
out  of  the  fire.     This  irreverence  sneers  at  faith ;   it  thinks  it 
foolish  to  be  believing  and  of  a  tender  conscience;  it  is  attracted 
by  the  bold  and  bad.     There  is  a  deal  to  foster  this  irreverence 
at  the  present  day ;  many  parents  seem  to  have  agreed  not  to 
demand  the  honor  which  is  their  natural   right;   they  do  not 
train  the  child  to  respectfulness,  to  yielding  honor  where  honor 
is  due.     There  is  a  bad  tone  in  young  society,  and  boys  and 
girls  are  allowed  to  wander  out  of  the  safe  restraints  of  home 
into  this  loose-speaking,  and  thinking,  and  impudent  (they  call 
it  bright   and  witty)  company.     The  land   is   flooded   with   a 
literature  of  saucine.ss,  not  to  mention  here  the  literature  of 
open  vice.     The  literature  of  sauciness  always  praises  the  sharp 
youth  at   the   expense  of  legitimate   guardians;    the   old   are 
treated  to  light  names  and  ridicule  ;  decent  restrictions  are  called 
'old-fashioned  notions;'  pertness  always  succeeds;   the  heroes 
and  heroines  look  for  no  higher  guidance  than  their  own  wills. 
Fed  on  such  literature  as  this,  youth  becomes  as  weak  and 
frothy,  but  possibly  not  as  harmless,  as  a  bottl     of  root-beer. 
Lay  it  up  as  a  principle.  James  Frederick,  that  the  less  you 
respect,  the  less  respectable  you  arc ;   the  less  you  honor,  the 
less  in  you  is  to  be  honored.     There  arc  those  '  whom  not  to 
know  argues  one's  self  unknown,'  so  if  you  have  no  reverence  in 


^'-     -        .If 

I       ..  I  J, 


GCOD   AfANA'ERS  IN   THE  HOME. 


acter.     One  is  weak  anH  .  ^"^  '"  y°"'"  °^"  ^har- 

wuc  i.s  weak,  and  vain  and  n-nonnf-    fi, 
of  a  fool  than  of  him.  «nora„t_there  ,s  more  hope 

"Measure  yourself  by  this  rule:  'With  what  ,.„ 

mete,  it  shall  be  measured  to  you  again      Wh!        ,      '"  *'"" 

and  noble  to  be  admired,  obeyed  coL  >    Ah  tr  'T '™'' 

without  you,  but  -Mm.,  ^<.,./ AndT   1  ,^  '         '"*  "  "°' 

.    without  reverence  is  to  bo  f„  I       .1  ^■°"'  ""'=  >"<"■* 

7--o.da,e;:n*:rrt;:r;::;;;rr^"'**- 

the  bad      Tl  e  v!"th  ■    I  "'''  '"^  '■"™'"»  ••""•  '"'""g  "" 

-aseh,msei;r::XtXpa::rrr''^-''-" 
your  hear,  this  grace  of  reverence.  ^"'™''  "'"'  ■^" 

"And  as  you  know  mc  to  be  fr-ink  m  c.    i  • 

you  a,^  interested  in  le  1,         \                P'™"°  '"  ''"".  "«' 

«  clearly  set  be  ore  J  7,"     '  "'*"'  ''■  ="''  *='-  '<>  '«- 

one  who  i    olde?   o  b  "         '""'  ''''  ""=  ^"«  '°  -"-  '» 

instruction!.  '""™"^'''  '"'  ""'  ^'V  'o  vouchsafe 

Now,  while  I  notice  and  deplore  this  1,^1,    r 
far  from  thin.in,  that  in  these'd X.  t    hatetr™"'  '  ™ 
who  properly  respect  their  elders     Tlu        '       '«  P"P'° 
Jeremiad  over  the  a,e  in  whic       L        thi';:!  """  '"'",  " 
people  suppose  everything  in  the  world  t„  h  """'"  "'"'' 

was  when  they  were  ,.„!„        7      ,  """■'"  "°"  "»"  " 

world  as  it  looked  ^th  :•.."'  '""'  "'""'"*"  *= 

looked  to  older  ;irT„r::,.r"^ '?--<'--• 

•-".ht;.hoyaresatis.ed;ithth^-:-:-^» 


320 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


m. 


companions,  and  looking  back  all  seems  to  have  been  very  sat- 
isfactory. A  second  reason  for  this  exalting  the  days  of  the  past 
is,  that  year  by  year  communication  between  ail  parts  of  the 
country  becomes  closer;  we  know  of  the  manners  and  doings  of 
more  people;  we  hear  of  all  the  evil  that  transpires;  and  thus 
becoming  cognizant  of  more  evil  we  hastily  decide  that  there  is 
more  evil  in  proportion  to  the  population  than  there  was  for- 
merly. Besides  all  this,  I  think  we  are  more  apt  to  brood  over 
what  is  bad,  than  to  rejoice  in  what  is  good :  we  sigh  over  fifty 
young  people  who  are  going  astray,  and  we  forget  to  be  glad 
over  the  fifty  or  a  hundred  who  are  doing  about  as  they  ought. 
If  I  begin  to  think  that  our  young  folks  now  are  all  wrong,  I 
have  only  to  go  to  Mrs.  Winton's,  or  Mrs.  Burr's,  or  Cousin 
Ann's,  or  our  minister's,  or  plenty  of  other  places  which  I  could 
name,  to  find  families  who  are  all  that  the  most  exacting  could 
demand. 

I  was  so  pleased  with  Cousin  Ann's  Dick  a  fortnight  ago. 
I  had  stopped  to  see  Cousin  Ann  for  a  few  minutes  in  the 
morning,  and  she  was  seated  on  the  back-porch  with  a  large  pan 
of  potatoes  to  pare,  as  it  happened  that  it  was  a  very  busy  time, 
and  all  the  other  members  of  the  family  were  occupied.  Cousin 
Ann  chanced  to  say,  as  she  look  up  another  Early  Rose, 
"  Really,  if  there  is  one  kind  of  work  which  I  particularly  dis- 
like, it  is  peeling  potatoes!" 

Dick  was  sitting  resting  on  the  steps.  "  Mother,  my  dear," 
he  cried,  "  there  is  not  the  least  need  of  your  doing  what  you 
dislike  when  I  am  on  hand  to  do  it  for  you  ;  behold,  how  beauti- 
fully I  can  pare  potatoes!"  so  jumping  up  he  took  possession 
of  pan,  basket,  and  knife,  and  began  peeling  the  potatoes  as 
quickly  and  evenly  as  his  mother  could  have  done. 

I  said,  with  all  my  heart :  "  Dick,  I  had  rather  see  that  ready 
helping  of  your  mother  than  to  hear  that  any  one  had  left  you 
fiv'e  thousand  dollara;  I  believe  it  will  be  of  more  advantage 
to  you  in  every  way,  for  a  blessing  always  follows  good  sons." 


GOOD  MANNERS  IN  THE  HOME.  ggl 

That  cheerful  bearing  of  one  another's  burdens,  that  ready 
courtesy  to  each  other,  has  always  distinguished  Cousin  Ann', 
fam.ly.     lier  household  is  a.ways  busy,  eheerful  and  healthful 
I  th.nic  much  of  their  health  is  derived  from  their  cheery  activi- 
ties     Every  meal  there  is  a  sort  of  festival,  and  it  is  a  treat  to 
s.t  down  at  their  table,  no  matter  how  plain  the  meal  is     The 
neatness,  taste  and  order  with  which  everything  is  served  makes 
't  a  luxury.     I  said  as  much  to  Cousin  Ann  several  times.     She 
rephed  to  me  one  day:  "  I  have  always  thought,  Sophronia,  that 
a  deal  of  health  and  of  family  affection  depended  on  our  way  of 
takmg  our  meals;  in  a  family  like  ours,  where  we  are  all  busy 
about  one  thing  and  another  continually,  we  do  not  all  meet 
except  at  meals,  and  in  the  evening.     Those  are  then  the  times 
when  we  must  cultivate  our  acquaintance  with  each  other     I 
t.y  to  have  the  table,  as  our  meeting-place,  very  attractive  to"the 
eye ;  to  have  it  orderly,  so  that  our  chat  shall  not  be  interrupted 
by  looking  for  needful  things  that  are  forgotten,  or  by  jumping 
t.p  and  running  about.     I  like  the  food  good,  and  well  served^ 
and  people  tidy  to  eat  it.     None  of  our  men  folks  come  to  the 
table  unwashed  or  unbrushed,  sleeves  and  trowsers  rolled  up 
and  boots  just  from  the  bam.     In  the  entry-room,  near  the  sink 
where  the  brushes  and  towels  are,  each  one  has  his  own  nail 
with  a  coat  t.,  wear  at  meals  and  a  pair  of  slippers.     There  is  a 
whLsk-broom  for  brushing  off  their  clothes,  and  while  it  hardly 
takc.s  more  than  five  minutes  to  make  the  change,  it  sends  them 
to  the  table  looking  neat,  rnd  feeling  rested  and  refreshed      I 
thmk  it  is  needful  to  health  and  comfort  to  avoid  coming  to  the 
tabic  ovcr-tired;  one  cannot  then  look  or  speak  cheerfully  nor 
d.gest  well.     Now,  after  the  work  and  worries  of  the  field  the 
shppers  rest  the  feet;  the  washing  of  the  hands  and  face  cools 
and  refreshes;  the  change  of  the  coat,  and  the  brushing,  seem  to 
B.VC  a  change  to  one's  feelings,  and  we  all  get  to  table  ready  ta 
torgct  for  a  little  the  work  that  is  going  on.  and  to  talk  about 


liiLia^ 


UiS 


322 


r//E   COMPLETE  //OAfE. 


anything  pleasant  which  offers.  I  try  and  have  some  subject  for 
good  conversation,  just  as  much  as  I  try  to  have  good  food.  If 
there  is  a  nice  story,  a  good,  kind-tempered  joko,  some  nice 
anecdote,  I  have  encouraged  the  family  in  keeping  it  for  meal- 
times; a  good  laugh,  and  a  flow  of  cheerful  talk,  helps  a  meal  on 
wonderfully.  I  will  not  have  troublesome  topics  brought  up  at 
meals,  nor  any  disputing ;  as  far  as  possible,  we  avoid  talking  of 
the  work ;  we  take  time  for  our  meals ;  it  don't  pay  to  hurry 
one's  eating ;  if  you  save  in  every  month  the  time  of  one  work- 
ing day,  by  cutting  down  the  proper  time  of  meals  by  one-half, 
you  will  in  a  year  be  sure  to  lose  more  than  those  twelve  un- 
justly-gained working  days,  by  dyspepsia,  headaches,  fevers, 
cholera  morbus,  or  bilious  attacks.  Give  proper  time  to  a 
proper  and  cheerful  meal,  and  the  day's  work  will  move  on  with 
as  much  again  of  vigor  and  good  judgment.  We  like  to  have 
friends  at  meals  with  us ;  we  don't  consider  it  a  trouble  to  put 
an  extra  plate  and  chair,  and  we  ask  our  guest  to  partake 
of  just  what  we  have;  a  welcome,  friendly  guest  makes  our 
meal  twice  as  valuable  to  us ;  we  are  the  gainers  and  not  the 
givers." 

"  You  have  always  been  very  hospitable,  Cousin  Ann,"  I  said, 
"  and  I  think,  on  the  whole,  you  have  by  hospitality  gained  as 
much  as  you  have  conferred.  Your  faniily  are  accustomed  to 
good  society;  their  manners  are  easy  and  refined,  fitting  them 
for  any  circumstances  in  which  they  may  be  placed.  They 
have  never  needed  to  run  away  from  home  for  society;  they  are 
acquainted  with  all  the  popular  topics  of  the  day;  they  have 
formed  their  opinions,  and  their  opinions  are  valued  by  their 
neighbors.  They  are  looked  up  to  as  an  important  part  of  the 
community." 

"  When  there  was  company,"  said  Cousin  Ann,  "  I  did  not  let 
some  one  of  the  children  run  and  hide;  I  never  sent  them  off, 
on  the  pica  that  they  were  not  dressed  for  company,  or  because 


COOD  MAN.VEliS  IX   rilE  HOME.  g., 

Xr  ;    ''"  ^"'  ^"-Mhey  wore  presentable  and  I 
knew  that  the  shyness  would  grow  with  indulgence.     Reed  w„ 
the  n,os.  d,ffide„t  of  n,y  children ;  he  would  aLys  have  g  ad'^ 
run  to  the  barn  when  he  saw  visitors  co„,ing,  and  prefcrfed    „ 
ose  a  nteal  ..her  than  co^e  into  the  presence  T^^ 
el.  sorry  for  the  child,  but  knew  it  would  never  do  to  enco' 
ae  feehng ;  ,t  would  be  harder  to  overcome  the  older  I  e  ^ 
However  ,  „ade  it  as  easy  as  I  could  for  hi™,  and  wl  J  .h"' 
dreaded  bc>v  and  shaking  hands  were  over,  he  s a    by  me    nd 
helped  on  h,s  share  in  the  conversation,  so  after  a  .Le  h     be 
came  as  soaal  as  any  of  us.     Dick,  on  the  other  hand,  r     iced 

;"  f:;:: :,; t'T'"  r^^  *™'''  ™^>-'°°  -='^.-  "^  - ' 

o  .nterrupt  older  people;  to  present  his  views  before  his  elders- 
to  cut  h,s  joke  no  matter  who  was  cut  by  it,  and  he  had        h  J 
com,cal  way  that  he  was  laughed  at  and  petted  by  strangers 
and  that  made  him  more  forward.    It  was  a,  difficult'.o  reprr,' 
D,ck  to  proper  limits  as  it  was  to  bring  Reed  up  to  themT. 

are  -"  ■"  a  hfet.me,  and  such  cares  belong  to  our  parental  posl 
..on,a„d  repay  us  in  the  end.  As  we  sow  we  reap;  he  who 
sows  spanngly  reaps  sparingly,  and  he  who  sows  b  untiflj! 
reaps  bount,fully.  Many  sisters  and  mother,  who  have  „o^ 
hougl^  „  worth  while  to  cultivate  and  develop  the  awk  v,rd 
^™«^  boy,  find  themselves  after  a  while  with  n'o  one  Jg  "^ 
w,th  hem  when  they  desire  an  escort,  and  no  one  to  help  the 
entertam  their  guests  at  home."  * 

While  I  do  no.  think  that  the  young  people  are  less  genial 
and  kmdlyin  their  ways  and  feelings  than  tl,ey  have  een  „ 
pas.  generations,  ,  do  think  that  there  is  a  gig  o ,.  o    .  e 

r:,rc:"irr  "T"°"  '°  ■""  ''-■  -'« 

hand  t,.;-       r  '°     "'""'•    '^^"'^ '»  ">°  "'"eh  of  off. 

tand  takmg  for  g.„,ed  that  things  are  right  and  agreeable. 


J 


t 


m 


1' 


aM 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


I     '   > 


'ih 


When  among  t!ie  crowd  of  modern  youths  you  see  some  young 
man  carefully  formed  by  his  mother,  on  some  stately,  gracious, 
old-fashioned  model,  he  is  at  once  a  marked  man  for  his  man- 
ners and  always  a  favorite.  Mrs.  Winton's  two  sons  are  marked 
wherever  they  go  as  "  distinguished  in  appearance  "  simply  in 
virtue  of  this  scrupulous  training.  They  do  not  make  a  bow  by 
pointing  a  finger  in  the  direction  of  the  hat-brim  and  raising 
their  eye-brows,  but  the  hat  is  lifted  and  a  bow  full  of  grace  is 
really  made,  and  this  by  no  means  in  a  stiff,  sc  i'-conscious  way. 
They  do  not  take  a  stranger  to  a  house  without  asking  per- 
mission from  the  lady  of  the  house.  They  do  not  dash  along 
the  street  and  pass  by  some  lady  of  their  acquaintance  who  is 
about  to  open  a  gate :  they  open  the  gate,  hold  it  open  while 
she  enters,  and  then  close  it.  They  do  not  meet  one  in  the 
street,  and  amianly  confer  their  company  for  a  walk  unasked. 
When  they  see  any  one  leaving  a  room,  they  rise  and  hold 
open  the  door  for  them.  Leaving  church,  they  do  not  rush  to 
joke  with  Ihe  young  girls,  and  leave  some  old  lady,  or  decrepit 
gentleman,  to  hobble  down  the  steps  alone,  but  their  best 
courtesies  are  first  for  the  feeble  and  the  old.  So  many  young 
men  have  politeness  only  for  dashy  young  girls,  none  for  the 
elderly,  the  plain,  or  the  poor.  Those  Wintons  would  never 
have  thought  of  leaving  their  mother  or  sister  to  go  to  and 
from  some  evening  meeting  unescorted,  while  they  ran  to  offer 
their  company  to  some  young  lady.  They  attended  always  first 
upon  their  mother  and  Grace.  Indeed,  their  care  of  Grace  was 
charming.  They  did  not  allow  some  lad  to  accompany  her  in 
order  that  they  might  bestow  their  attention  elsewhere ;  but  as 
long  as  they  thought  her  too  young  to  enter  general  society, 
she  never  went  or  cane  under  other  care  than  theirs,  and  now 
■  they  exercise  a  scrupulous  supervision  over  all  the  young 
gentlemen  of  her  acquaintance:  a  young  man  must  be  marvel- 
lously well-beha,ved  to  be  admitted  into  Grace  Winton's  society. 
Lately  as  I  was  walking  along  the  street  7  saw  North  Winton, 


. 


GOOD  MAJVJVEA'S  IN  THE  HOME.  326 

on  horseback,  looking  up  at  a  window  and  lightly  kissing  his 
hand  with  a  very  devoted  expression.  "Why,"  I  thought, 
looking  toward  the  window,  "with  whom  is  our  North" so 
enraptured  ?  "  I  saw  at  the  window  his  mother,  and  it  brought- 
to  my  mind  the  pretty  little  poem  of"  De  Leon's  Pledge." 

Last  winter  we  h-  I  -  series  of  lectures  delivered  in  our  vil- 
lage. They  were  all  srcvy  interesting  and  instructive,  but  I 
think  I  liked  be  it  .ne  on  social  culture.  It  was  very  plain 
and  practical.     Sor.rr  of  tlic  thoughts  were  these: 

It  is  in  general  L,.dly  believed  that  if  hearts  and  heads  are 
right,  vianncrs  will  be  right  also.     And  yet  sometimes,  owing  to 
forgctfulness,  unfortunate  examples,  or  other  minor  causes,  per- 
sons' manners  are  less  pleasing  than  their  hearts  are  true  and 
kindly.     Permit,  then,  a  few  words  on  social  culture,  in  two  or 
three  rules  which  will  serve  equally  well  both  at  home  and 
abroad.     First,  Be  sincere.     It  is  not  needful  to  good  manners 
that  we   use   as   current   conversation   those   common  fictions 
which   many  deem  essential   to   maintaining  a  place  in  good 
-society.     We  should  not  say  the  thing  we  do  not  think,  always 
remembering  that  we  are  not  called  upon  to  say  all  that  we 
think.     Why  seem  to  be  very  fond  of  Miss  Jenkins,  whom  we 
like  the  least  of  all  our  acquaintances?     Why  tell  Mrs.  Jones 
that  we  shall  be  charmed  to  visit  her,  when  we  really  do  not 
mean  to  go  ?     Why  urge  Miss  Smith  to  come,  when  we  wish  her 
to  keep  away?     That  kindly  smile  which  is  due  to  the  human 
tie,  that  placid  grace  which  is  due  to  yourself,  will  make  you 
polite  to  these  without  resigning  sincerity.     And  here  be  sure 
you  do  not  indulge  a  hard  nature  by  saying  hard  things  and 
calling  it  honesty!     We   are   bound  by  the  Golden  Rule  to 
be  both  sincere  and  gracious.     This  is  the  first  rule  in  good 
manners, 

"  To  seek  that  august  face  of  Tratk 
Whereto  are  given 
The  age  of  heaven, 
The  beauty  of  immortal  youth." 


I  ^ 


r 


326 


77/E  COMPLETE  HOME. 


''  f 


The  second  tiling  is— ^^  sympathetic.    At  home  and  abroad, 
no   quality    will    make   one   so   beautiful    and    so   beloved   as 
sympathy.     If  we  cultivate  sympathy,  we  shall  be  reverential  to 
age  and  tender  to   childhood.      Sympathy  is  more  often  the 
product  of  a  strong  than  a  weak  nature :  people  who  are  half 
educated  and  imperfectly  cultured  make  the  ignorant,  the  timid, 
and  the  sensitive  feel  wretched  in  their    presence,  and  enjoy 
making  them  feel  so ;  while  the  accomplished  scholar,  the  well- 
balanced  heart,  throws  over  such  the  jEgis  of  liis  strong  pro- 
tection, and  first  of  all  succeeds  in  making  them  feel  comfortable. 
Now  this  sympathy  is  akin  to  another  fine  social  quality, 
which   I  cannot  too  highly  commend,  and  that  is,  self -forget- 
fulness.     We  cannot  be  truly  sympathetic  to  others  while  we  arc 
absorbed  in  ourselves.     We  cannot  even  be  self-absorbed  and 
be  sincere,  for  self-centring  makes  us   dishonest   to  ourselves. 
Be  self-forgetful.     "  Seek,"  says  the  Apostle,  in  that  best  book 
on  etiquette  that  has  ever  been  written— the  Bible,  "not  every 
man  his  own,  but  every  man  another's  good."     There  is  nothing 
so  graceful  as  this  self-forgetfulness.     Egotism  is  always  awk- 
ward ;  it  blunders,  or  is  stiff,  or  nervous,  or  affected.     Only  in 
self-forgetting  can  one  be  interested  either  in  other  people,  or  in 
their  subjects  of  conversation ;  and  if  we  are  not  good  listeners, 
we  fail  in  one  very  important  way  of  making  ourselves  agreeable. 
This  self-forgetting  is  a  good  quality  which  improves  with  age. 
Whittier  paints  such  -  spirit : 

"  Who  lonely,  homeless,  none  the  less 
Found  peace  in  love's  unselfishness, 
And  welcome  wheiosoe'er  she  went. 
A  calm  and  gracious  element, 
Whose  presence  seemed  the  sweei  income 
And  womanly  atmosphere  of  home." 

Being  self-forgetful,  let  us  also  be  thoughtful.  Of  all  things, 
let  us  not  be  oi  -hose  who  rattle  on  without  thinking  or  knowint? 
wlut  they  arc  sayin-      This  thoughtlessness  is  most  dan-erous 


GOOD   .IfA.VJVEA'S  m  THE  NOME.  337 

>:::,::  :r"°" ""  """'"'"■"''  >'">«»«  convcjeic, 

below  .he  H.,  „fduc„,.,3  ,„,„  .,«  of  assassins!    Don'  '  u    " 

tlnit  docs  not  need  cxcusiiirr      VVN.fi         t  .  .,  •  ^' 

fi  •        .     r.  ^-^^u^ing.     vv  liat !  am  I  talkintr  of  vci  v  littl<> 

o;t^.r''"''''^^''"™'"°^'''''-'''"«^-  '--i^t 

,,    "■'"■,    '""'"'''J'  ''•■'J  ■"»"""»,  mam,crs  i„si„ccrc  unsy,,,- 

pai.c.,c..„o>,,„u.ss  „.  o,„„,.,,  ,„„o„.,„,„,„f  ^  ,•;  ;^ 

Therefore  wc  „,a,  put  „„  exhortations  on  social  cn.tnr        o 
one  precept,  and  say:  He  Christian,  and  in  proportion  a, 
Sracons  ,nn,d  of  the  Master  abides  in  you,  his '  iiseip  e    h 
r.c  an    gentle,  ,h„u«h.fu.  ofo.hers,  forgetful  of  self,  i      'ovin, 
ery  ,a  en.  ,o  its  „t„,ost,  you  will  always  c.hibi.  the  v  ry  l^s' 
of  prood  manners.  ^      ^ 


ill 


our 


were 
yoiinfT 


tl'o  leading  ideas  of  the  lecture,  and  I  was  glad 
people  heard  them,  and  I  hope  that,  young  and  old. 


wc  shall  be  apt  to  put  then)  in  practice 


328 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


■41 


^1  :i 


ii' 


ii'  i 


L  telTBlTT  ""' 


w 


Belinda  Black  came  to  spend  a  day  with  me,  and  we  had  a 
good  deal  of  discussion  as  to  what  was  ladylike  and  becoming 
to  a  young  girl.  I  impressed  it  on  Belinda,  that  whatever  was 
good  and  becoming  should  first  be  used  at  home;  that  fine  man- 
ners were  not  to  be  kept  for  strangers,  to  go  on  with  our  good 
bonnet,  and  be  put  off  with  our  best  gloves;  but  the  grace  that 
suited  a  stranger's  table  suited  our  own ;  the  cou-tesy  which 
pleased  friends  abroad  would  please  parents  and  brothers  and 
sisters  at  home.  "A  woman,"  I  said,  "  who  goes  about  her  house 
slipshod  and  untidy,  in  a  soiled,  ragged  gown,  and  only  once  or 
twice  a  year  gets  fuhy  fitted  up  in  her  best  clothes,  will  be  sure 
to  feel  awkward  and  act  awkwardly  in  those  unwonted  garments: 
so  good  manners  which  are  not  of  cvery-day  use  will  fit  us  but 
illy,  and  we  shall  be  ungainly  in  their  exercise;  people  will  see 
that  we  have  only  put  them  on  for  show,  and  it  will  serve  us 
right  to  be  thus  betrayed.  As  good  manners  arc  welcome  in  all 
places,  .so  they  are  suitable  to  all  times.  Some  people  need  to 
be  up  three  or  four  hours  before  they  can  find  their  cheerful 
civility;  they  are  well-mannered  from  noon  until  night,  and  ill- 
mannered  from  rising  until  noon.  Never  come  down-stairs 
cross." 

"A  great  many  people  do,"  .said  Belinda.  "I  often  do;  all 
things  look  dull,  I  feel  dull,  nothing  .seems  likely  to  turn  out 
well,  and  I  can  hardly  speak,  I  feel  so  fretted." 

"Then,"  I  nid,  "you  mu.st  have  been  sleeping  in  too  clo.se  u 
room,  or  have  sat  up  too  late,  or  eaten  too  heavy  a  supper;  you 
should  search  out  the  causes  of  these  things  and  destroy  them, 
and  then  these  unpleasant  effects  will  cea.se;  your  gloomy  face 
and  reluctant  v/ords  will  make  all  the  family  dull,  and  the  d./ 
will  move  heavily.  When  you  feel  in  this  captious  or  heavy 
mood  when  you  rise,  try  and  disperse  it:  throw  up  your  window, 
step  about  briskly  in  the  fresh  air,  toss  your  bed-clothes  to  air, 
wash  your  head,  arms  and  chest  thoroughly  in  cold  witer,  and 


GOOD   MANNERS  LV   THE  HOME.  339 

rub  With  a  coarse  towel;  draw  and  expel  deep  breaths,  so  as  to 
fill  your  lungs  with  pure  air.  and  send  oxygen  through  your 
blood.  Then  you  will  feel  bright  and  hopeful,  and  be  able  to 
speak  and  act  politely  wh.en  you  get  into  the  breakfast-iooni  " 

"Well,"  said  Iklinda,  "I  shall  remember  that.  Now  tell  me 
of  some  of  the  little  things  which  you  think  especially  rude-the 
little  thmgs  which  we  are  most  liable  to  do." 

"One  is  a  habit  of  singing  and  humming  in  the  presence  of 
others.     I  knew  a  young  woman,  very  nice  and  well  cducaf^d 
too.  who.  whenever  she  was  not  absolutely  talking,  would  go  to 
humming  tunes.     If  she  walked  with  you.  and  a  silence  fell  in 
the  conversation,  she  would  hum.  hum.  hum,  in  the  most  annov- 
ing  way.     It  is  pleasant  to  hear  one  singing  over  their  work  • 
but  where  two  or  three  are  together  this  humming  like  a  huc^J 
bumble-bee  may  prove  very  trying  to  somebody.     There  too  "is 
that  other  habit  of  shrill  whistling,  indulged  in  by  boys    and 
sometmies  by  girls.     I  like  to  hear  a  boy  whistle  and  sing  in  the 
fields  or  along  the  road;  but  it  is  very  ill-mannered  for  him  to 
come  whistling  into  the  fan.ily  room,  or  to  sit  whistling  shrilly 
W'  the    group   gathered    on   a   pia.za.      We   are    ill-mannered 
^^hen  we  ignore  the  fact  that  in  this  world  we  are  not  monarchs 
of  all  we  suivcy,  dwelling  in  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness; 
but  we  are  e;.oh  one  of  many,  and  we  must  act  so  as  not  to 
irench  upon  the  rights  and  comforts  of  others.     We  can  law- 
fully  exercise  our  own  privileges  only  in  a  way  not  to  interfere 
with  our  neighbor.     It  is  rude  for  children  to  plav,  race  and 
bawl  on  the  street  corners  in  a  manner  to  disturb  the  people  in 
all  the  adjacent  houses,  and  no  well-conducted  parents,  who  desire 
to  have  their  children  become  prosperous  and  honored  citizens 
%'.!!  for  an  hour  permit  this.     It  is  very  ill-mannerly  for  a  group 
of  young  girls  to  go  ogling,  laughing,  shouting,  loudly  talking, 
and  calling  each  other's  names  alontr 


I3elind, 


I,  one  who  has  a  ri-jht  to  the 


the  streets.     A  true  girl, 
name  of  lady,  docs  not 


;f 


330 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


V  v  1 


desire  to  call  public  attention  to  herself.     She  must  be  sought 
for.     She  does  not  parade  herself  to  general  view.     She  is  care^ 
ful  not  to  act  or  dress  in  a  manner  to  make  herself  remarkable 
either  for  oddity,  display,  showy  colors,  or  extravagance.     Ilcr 
dress  and  her  manners  are  simple  and  refined.     Her  good  taste- 
regulates  her  tones,  her  words  and  her  actions  as  well  as  her 
bonnets.     She  quietly  does  what  she  thinks  she  ought,  and  has 
a  large  reserve  power  of  intelligence,  wit,  accomplishment,  kind 
feeling.     She  does  not  show  forth  at  one  glance  all  her  posses- 
sions, as  some  people  who  set  all  their  silver  forth  on  their  tables 
at  once,  but  she  has  an  untold  inheritance  and  acquisition  of  val- 
uable things,  which  will  only  be  discovered  by  a  long  acquaint- 
ance,  when  day  by  day  slie  will  surprise  you  by  liaving  a  depth 
of  strength,  and  culture,  and  lovingness  beyond  your  previous 
discerning.      Such  a  girl   is  like  an   inexhaustible  gold  mine 
while  many  girls  are  like  the   bogus    mines,  started  by  some 
crafty  speculator,  who  has  scattered  a  little  j^old  and  quartz 
along  the  surface. 

"Another  point  where  young  people  often  c  .nibit  great  i'l- 
manners  is  in  a  restiveness  to  reproof     A„  older  friend  rebukes 
them  for  some  awkwardness  or  rudeness,  and  instead  of  accept- 
ing  the  reproof  in  kindly  .spirit  as  meant  for  their  improvement 
or  as  a  thing  which  can  be   used  for  their  good,  even  when 
given   irritably,  they  are  vexed,  and  proceed  to  justify  them- 
selves, or  are  forever  angry  with  the  reprover.     They  forget  that 
open  rebuke  is  better  that;  secret  love;  that  the  wounds  of  a 
fnend  are  better  than  the  kisses  of  an  enen^.     This  restiveness 
to  reproof  I  think  often  hinders  elder  friends  from  making  to 
the  j-oimg  such  suggestions  as  would  be  of  service.     I  knew  a 
young  g,r!  once,  who  from  carelessness,  bad  c.xanip     .    '  r  lack 
of  watchfulness  in    her   teachers,   had    fallen  htc   ^n   ral   bid 
habits  which  were  ruining  her  manners.     A  wise,  elderly  lady 
look  her  apart,  and  said  to  her:  'My  dear,  you  have  some  rude 


GOOD  MANNERS  IN  THE  HOME.  331 

ways  which  will  much  injure  you.  When  spoken  to  you  often 
cry.  «  Hey  I "  or  "  What !  "  You  often  nod  or  shake  your  head 
by  way  of  answer;  you  fail  to  look  at  the  person  who  speaks  to 
you,  or  to  whom  you  are  speaking,  and  you  are  too  bold  in  your 
manner  of  expressing  a  dissenting  opinion.' 

"Now,  the  young  girl  mi-ht  have  been  vexed  at  this  reproof 
though  kindly  given  and  wisely  intended  by  one  competent  tJ 
instruct.     However,  she  took  ,t  in  the  kindest  spirit.     She  felt 
that  if  one  person  saw  these  flaws,  more  must  see  them,  and 
that  It  was  well  to  know  of  them  in  time  to  check  them      She 
thanked  the  lady,  told  her  that  she  hoped  she  would  always 
suggest  to  her  when  she  was  going  wrong,  for  that  hitherto  no 
one  had  noticed  these  errors  of  ipanner  in  a  way  to  correct 
them.     She  desired  to  be  a  true  lady  in  her  ways,  and  gladly 
laid  hold  on  any  means  of  improvement.     As  you  may  fancy,  so 
eager  and  docile  a  pupil  made  rapid  progress,  and  she  became 
soon  graceful  and  thoughtful  in  her  manners." 

I  have  no  doubt  thai  Belinda,  who  is  ready  to  learn    was 
benefited  by  this  talk  on  good  manners.     It  is  a  theme  which  I 
often  pursue  with  my  young  friends.     Good  manners  are  to  a 
lad  what  beauty  is  to  a  girl,  at   once   attracting  an  interested 
and  kmdiy  feeling;  while  to  a  girl  good  manners  are  infinitely 
more   valuable    than    fine    dress    or    sliowy   accomnlishmcnts. 
Chesterfield  says  that  the  art  of  pleasing  is  the  art  of  rising, 
and  this   is  largely  true:  for  some  must  rise  in  life  in  evcrj' 
generation,  and  naturally  those  will  rise  who  are  ready  to  aid 
and  please  others  and  so  become  respected  and  popular.     We 
will  not  give  our  business,  our  votes,  our  aid  to  one  who  treated 
us  surlily;  we  will  strive  to  push  him  down  lu  make  room  for 
the   man   of  courtesy.     And   this   flower   of  courtesy,   choice 
as  Arabian  Spikenard,  should  be  planted,  cultivated  and  gathered 
in  the  Home. 


nil  * 

•  1 1-^  i 


4;    J 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

METHODS    OF    ■'■V'ORK    IN     THE    HO>lE. 
Tfi?    S^-.\^   AUNT  SOPHRONFA   THINKS   WORK    SHOULD   BE    GONE. 

'^^v    C,OLT>TN  of  Doctor  Nugent,  a  surgeon  who  is  in  charge 

^A  ^     nf  .1  State  Insane  Asylum,  lately  spent  several  days  in  our 

(g^     vil..-i.je,  anJ    Hester   invited   me   to  m;'ct   him  at  tea. 

*^  fc       During   the  evening  the  conversation    turned    on   the 

causes  of  insanity, 

"What,"  inquired  John  Rochcford,  "is  the  chu  f  root  of  the 
madness  of  your  patients  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  hard  to  say,"  replied  the  Doctor,  "  for  causes 
are  so  many,  and  often  so  nearly  equally  distributed.  We  have 
many  whose  mania  is  hereditary ;  as  many  more,  perhaps,  who 
are  victims  of  alcoholic,  opium  or  nicotine  poisoning.  Severe 
illness  has  dethroned  reason  in  some,  and  sudden  shocks,  losses 
in  business  or  family,  or  deep  sorrows,  have  sent  us  other  unfor- 
tunates. I  notice  that  when  any  one  passes,  from  excitement  on 
religious  subjects,  into  insanity,  the  unbelieving  make  a  loud 
outcry  over  it,  insinuating,  more  or  less  boldly,  that  religion  is 
in  itself  dangerous  and  unsettling  to  the  mind;  ij^noring  the 
fiict  that  victims  of  '  religious  insanity  '  are  those  whose  natural 
tendency  is  toward  madness,  which  excitement  of  any  kind  is 
likely  to  develop;  and  that  the  disturbance  of  tlep-  mind  has 
been  not  a  true  religious  idea,  but  abnormal  or  ■  'y  fancies; 
while  there  is  nothing  more  soothing  to  the  i   tlian  real 

piety,  and  dou  ' '     s  it  yearly  preserves  their  ,  to  tlu^usn 

of  minds,   whieii  v/ould    be  thrown   off  tL        I 
(032) 


usands 
alance  by  the 


METHODS   OF   WORK  m  THE  HOME.  333 

painful  circumstances  of  their  lives,  were  it  not  for  tins  fountain 
of-  hope  and  refreshment,  this  roclv  of  strength  " 

"  How  is  it  about  students  ?     Have  you  many  hterary  people 
among  your  patients  ?  "  asked  Doctor  Nugent. 

"  Less  ^of  severe  students,  perhaps,  than  of  any  other  class 
The  mmd  occupied  with  questions  of  science,  or  philosophy,  or 
history,  has  no  time  to  become  introverted,  and  brood  to  dis- 
traction over  its  own  developments.  I  have  many  patients  who 
are  v.ctims  of  what  I  am  inclined  to  call  paralysis  of  the  reason  • 
mdolent  young  women  most  of  these,  whose  minds  being  unfed 
gnaw  on  themselves  and  shrivel  away." 

"  How  is  it  about  work  ?  '•  asked  Hester.     "  Does  hard  work 
send  you  many  victims  ?  " 

"Work,  like  religion."  said  the  Doctor,  "has  been  called  to 
endure  many  false  accusations.     I  have  had  more  patients  sent 
to  me  by  .dlencss  than  by  hard  labor-of  these,  girls  especiallj. 
Boys  brought  up  in  the  terribly  dangerous  position  of  idlerV 
social  dro.es,  by  the  ve^^  muscular  activity  of  their  make  find 
something  to  do:  they  become  amateur  boxers,  boatmen,  ball- 
players     Society  does  not  profit  by  these  things  particularly 
nor  will  eternity  re^  much  harvest  by  them;  but  at  least  they 
will  serve  to  keep  these  young  fellows  out  of  the  mad-house 
where  many  of  their  sisters   may  go.      The  young   girl  with 
nothing  to  do  begins  to  dwell  upon  herself  in  nervous  intro- 
spection ;  she  becomes  hys-rical :  hysteria  makes  her  an  object 
of  notice  and  sympathy  in  the  family;  she  indulges  more  and 
more  her  predisposition  to  it;  it  masters  her,  by  degrees  passes 
mto  mama,  and  she  is  fit  only  for  an  asylum.     I  have  had  more 
than  one  or  two  cases  of  this  kind,  where  the  pains,  and  what  we 
."ay  call    the    social    disgrace  of  madness,  would   have   been 
escaped,  if  the  girl  had  been  brought  up  to  sweep  and  dust  to 
make  her  clothes,  to  bake  the  family  bread  and  pastrv  ^-    ' 
luother's  houseke 


L'pci 


father's  book-keeper. 


I  i 


334 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


(  > 


"As  to  work,  Mrs.  Nugent,  it  is  the  normal  estate  of  man 
since  Eden :  we  may  say  it  is  man's  natural  condition,  as  Adam 
was  provided  with  occupation  even  in  the  blessed  garden.     Now 
what  is  natural  can  be  borne :  God  did  not  establish  us  in  a  lot 
in  life  of  which  lot  the  natural  tendency  is  madness.     Work, 
lawful  work, does  not  dethrone  reason:  it  strengthens  both  brain 
and  body.     Over-work  and  iindcr-rcst  do  send  many  patients  to 
us;  but  man  must  blame  no  one  but  himself  when  he  destroys 
the  proportion  which  God  ordained  between  our  time  and  our 
labor,  our  working  and  our  resting.     Suppose  I  hire  a  man  to  do 
a  week's  work,  and  I  give  him  food  for  the  week ;  inspired  by 
avarice'  he  sells  the  food,  and  works  fasting ,  before  the  week  is 
out  he  drops  exhausted  and  soon  dies,  when  it  was  open  to  him 
to  use  both  work  and  food,  and  reach  the  end  of  tlie  week  a 
sounder  man  than  when  he  begun  it.     If  I  hire  a  man  to  move 
some  iron,  and  to  save  time,  as  he  calls  it,  he  piles  it  all  in  a  bi" 
barrel  and,  lifting  it  at  once,  incurably  injures  himself,  who  is  to 
blame  for  all  the  crippled   years,  when   he  might  have  been 
hale  and  tougher  from  his  work? 

"A  man  goes  to  work  in  a  field  in  midsummer:  at  noon  he  is 
warned  to  take  one  or  two  hours  of  resi,  to  cool  himself  to  eat, 
and  then  resting  again,  go  moderately  at  his  work  for  an  hour, 
increasing  his  toil  with  the  cooling  day;  instead,  he  presses  on 
m  madder  and  madder  haste.taking  no  noon  rest,  but  panting  on 
in  the  hottest  sun,  with  some  vague  idea  of  getting  done  earlier  in 
the  day,  as  people  do  who  work  themselves  to  premature  death, 
striving  in  haste  to  accumulate  a  fortune  for  their  age,  an  age 
which  they  never  reach.  So  the  man  whom  I  am  imagining, 
over-hurries  his  task,  and  dies  of  sunstroke  before  the  evening 
falls.  The  trouble  is  not  that  people  must  work— not  even  that 
m  the  sweat  of  their  brow  they  must  win  their  bread— but  that 
they  set  themselves  ta.sks  which  neither  God  nor  man  required 
of  them;  tncy  sequestrate  for  their  absurd  ends  the  hours  God 


unmoDs  OF  work  m  nm  jwm.  335 

.r,™  ";';■"''''  ''*'™  *°"'^*='  °f  f-O-  -.  -hat  Is  much 
c     m.,  or  „„e  ,0  digest  their  food-they  die,  or  go  mad    The 

tmnble  I,,  not  woik,  but  over-worit  ••  '       '      ^    '"''°-    '"'' 

■•n.,t,"  ,aid  Hester,  "are  there  not  some  mothers  of  lar^e 

hi-lp.  who  ,iro  forced  to  over-workf  " 

•rJJJmh  "T''  '"  "■"  ''""•"  "'"  ""  °°«-.  "'="•  "-  we 

w  r  ln°™      "  ■""  """  "'""'•  ""='  '  "="  >"-  a-  over, 
work  g„  -rally  means,  ,.w„„„  y  „v/„  ,„„;„^,  ,^ 

nV. «../«.  ascend  the  stairs  of  a  tower  a  hundred  feet  JZ 

bu  ,,«Tr:  Tr'""^  ^""""""^  *=--for,hedtab, 

s.    r      1    ,  r    "  """  "'"  "'*  ^"  y°"'  '"■»°'"  "P  *os 

m    ;r  f'"'  """"""^  '"  Ae  wind  on  top;  turn  and 

or  <l  c  of  a  congestion,  or  lie  all  the  rest  of  your  life  the  in 
vaW  v,c,im  of  your  folly  You  go  over  the  san,  space  Tn' 
-.1.-  case ;  you  liil  yourself  but  the  hundred  feet  ith'r  vav 
yo"  do  ,.,  but  the  result  depends  on  /„.,,,„  ,„ ,,  ,  toZl 
".ere  ,,,  one  case  in  five  hundred  of  so-called  victims  of  ove 
wor  w  ere  the  evil  has  „o=  arisen  rather  from  the  way  o  do  ni 
ho  work  than  rro„  ,h,  „,no„nt  of  it.  People  do  not  know  how 
o  I.  ..le    etween  the  needful  and  the  needless;  they  forge,  ho 

nocdk  ,K  n,„„ons,  hft.ngs,  fretlings,  increase  it.    I  have  lad  V 

n,,^f  overwork  brought  to  me;  mothers  whose  large  Lu;; 
ncuU  l,e,r  presence  ;  whose  daughters'  lives  would  be  bh^hted 
by  the  story  of  the  cra^y  mother;  these  won,e„  would  have""  en 
"  -'  by  havmg  each  day  one  hour's  ,„,  i„  rocking-chair  or  on 

-oil. ..,-  .,nok,  and  fifteen  minutes  for  a  short  walk.  Why  d.a 
«-y  n...  ,:  ve  this  hour  and  a  halfP  They  Wrf  ,„,..  ,h  '  L,™ 
«  «  th.  .cwing-raachine,  putting  six-pin  "tucks  in  the  frills  of 


I 


If  I 


336 


"^    COMPLETE   trOME. 


I      \      . 


^!M..fi 


pillovV-sh  'as;  ^'iyt..;n  uarrow  tucks  in  their  daughters'  petticoats, 
edged  ruffles  on  the  little  girl's  aprons ;  frills  on  the  baby's 
frock;  "juffs,  tucks  and  inserting  in  best  night-gowns.  And  here 
is  the  result:  the  baby  has  no  mother  to  put  on  its  frilled  frocks; 
the  little  girl  in  her  ruffled  apron  -'l!  cuffed  by  a  stranger;  the 
eldest  daughter,  whose  tucked  petticoats  wore  out  the  mother's 
powers,  and  robbed  her  of  rest,  is  a  girl  marked  '  as  perhaps 
inheriting  insanity;'  the  fancy  pillow-shams  and  night-gowns 
are  stolen  by  the  kitchen  maid  and  torn  by  the  laundress ;  the 
whole  catastrophe  was  caused  by  a  lack  of  common-sense ;  a 
forgetting  the  evident  fact  that  the  human  machine,  like  other 
machines,  cannot  stand  perpetual  motion  ;  that  it  must  be  rested, 
repaired,  and  oiled;  that  mothers  are  worth  more  than  tucks 
and  ruffles;  that  a  long,  heirty,  good-bestowing  life  is  better 
than  a  little  out-doing  c  f  the  neighbors  in  the  matter  f  dresis 
and  furnishings.  I  heard,  by  accident,  good,  sound  sense  on 
this  point,  in  this  wise :  a  gentleman,  fearing  for  his  wife's  state 
of  mind,  sent  for  me,  and,  unknown  to  the  wife,  we  were  in  the 
study,  adjoining  her  sitting-room,  when  a  lady  friend  came  to 
see  her.  Thinking  the  conversation  would  afford  me  good 
opportunity  of  judging  ol  his  wife's  n.cntal  condition,  I  signed 
to  her  hu  band  to  keep  si'  nee,  and,  lure  enough,  in  a  short 
time  the  poci  mother  conhded  to  her  friend  the  fear  that  slic 
was  going  crazy.  The  guest  was  known  to  fame  as  a  poet,  and 
I  did  not  exp.\-i;  trie  burst  oUh^'-d  common  smse  which  followed. 
The  door  was  ajar,  and  I  saw  her  with  keen  eye  measiire  hur 
hostess'  malady,  and  the  style  <:  '  ionic  needed. 

"'Go  crazy!'  she  criet'  don't  you  dare  to  do  it;  you  would 
tuin  these  five  little  gi,  w'  prospects  ha\L  the  daughterii 
of  an  insane  mother?  here  .-,  not  the  least  danger  of  any 
insanity  for  you,  if  you  will  every  day  ride  out  lur  an  hour,  lie 
down  for  an  hour,  and  read  for  an  hour;  air,  rest,  and  new 
interests  are  what/<?«  need.' 


MEmoUS   Of    tfOAJC  m    THE   JWAtE.  337 

-But  I  J>ave  no  time;  you  don't  begin  to  know  the  time  c.r 
irne"'^"  ^^^^  ^  ^^-'^  ^^- -  ^^-^  ^— -h  da,  at  th: 

"'Yes  but  tJiat  costs  money, and  I  feel  that  I  ought, o  lay  up 
all  I  can  for  our  children.'  ^ 

•■•Look  at  the  matter  practically:  call  i„  your  arithmetic.  If 
yo  d.c  of  over-„orW  a  houscKceper  will  cost  five  doll.rs  a 
week,  ,f  you  go  to  an  asylum,  consider  the  expense-  the  seam 
.tress  would  be  cheaper.  ,f  yo„  kill  yourself  by  und  r  rX 
you  dr,v.  your  husband  to  a  second  marriage.  L  three  orl"; 
M  ha^-brothers  would  materially  reduce  your  daughters'  por- 
t  on,.    The  rest  and  the  seamstress  by  whom  you  get  it  are 

nlrf  "k   rr""  """  "">'  °""^  =""--™''>'-=-     Mothers  ar- 
not  to  be  bought  in  a  market  at  five  dollars  a  head  ■ 

"These  sharp  remarks  were  a  revelation.    The  lady  agreed  to 
U.e  seamstress,  and  to  her  friend's  prescription  of  the  three  ■ 

TJffT  'T""7  "■=  "^^-^-^^  ''-^'-  "-."-- 

.t  off  to  walk.  I  said  to  the  h'tsband:  •  This  case  is  in  good 
hands  thes,  three  hou„  daily,  spent  as  arn>„ged  now,  will  save 
your  Wife;    and  they  did." 

could  not  possibly  be  .saved   by  the  mother        a  familv   and 

where  It  would  be  also  impossible  to  hire  a  seamstn.s"    "' 

"  That  ,s  true,"  said  the  Doctor;  "  but  three  hours  each  day  . 
may  not  a  ways  be  needed.  It  was  the  last  ounce,  you  know 
wh.c  broke  the  camels  back,  not  the  last  hundrL-wei^^ 
Wha  I  contend  for  is.  that  people  generally  d^  not  know  the 
pnce.ess  value  of  their  physical  and  mental  health,  until  they 
have  squandered  it;  nor  do  they  realize  that  a  little  saving  in 

care  and  labor,  a  litth-  r^st  a '•■^Mr  rhn m 

mentally  o    physically  ruined. 


I* 


I  t 


I', 


rjd 


J 


M 


23 


easy-chair,  an  occa- 


*      A 


tt 


338 


r//£    COMPLETE   HOME. 


sional  quiet  hour,  a  day's  visit,  a  pleasant  book,  the  being  re- 
lieved from  some  petty,  oft-recurring  task,  may  save  a  brain  or 
a  heart  just  on  the  point  of  exhaustion.  I  think  all  over- 
worked women,  if  they  examined  their  tasks,  feeling  that  there 
must  be  a  saving  made,  and  that  saving  must  be  in  their  own 
favor  for  their  own  recruiting,  would  be  surprised  at  the  result 
of  their  scrutiny.  Why,  I  have  seen  thin,  haggard,  worn-out 
women,  who  were  perishing  for  rest  and  recreation,  instead  of 
taking  that  needed  rest  which  would  spare  them  to  their  fami- 
lies, actually  sitting  for  two  or  three  hours  each  day  darning 
into  fine,  fancy  patterns  the  quilting  of  a  bed-spread!  This 
fanciful  quilting  would  not  make  the  quilt  warmer  nor  make  it 
wear  better,  but  it  would  make  it  fine.  A  million  times  better 
spend  that  time  in  the  garden  raising  flower-seeds,  or  in  the 
yard  raising  chicks  to  sell,  and  buy  counterpanes,  if  they  could 
not  be  had  without  such  management.  I  have  seen  women  sit- 
ting up  late  at  night  knitting  lace  for  their  parlor  curtains,  or 
ornamenting  children's  clothes,  when  the. hours  thus  stolen  from 
rest  would  soon  send  them  under  the  church-yard  sod,  where 
neither  lace  nor  ornaments  Avould  benefit  them.  I  have  seen  so 
many  of  these  foolish  sacrifices  that  I  feel  hotly  on  the  subject. 
This  ignorance  is  a  Moloch  destroying  hundreds  of  our  house- 
wives." 

"  Some  one,"  said  John  Rocheford,  "  ought  to  write  a  book 
on  the  subject,  and  tell  women  how  to  do  what  they  must  do, 
so  that  it  shall  be  most  easily  done;  and  how  to  discern 
between  the  needful  and  the  needless,  that  they  may  spare 
themselves  for  better  things,  and  live  out  their  rightful  days." 

"  The  book,"  said  Hester,  "  would  be  well  enough,  if  people 
would  read  it  or  heed  it,  but  it  is  very  hard  to  bring  folks  to 
give  up  rooted  and  perhaps  inherited  notions.  We  do  not 
take  much  warning  of  our  own  mortality  in  seeing  others  die, 
nor  of  our  own  weakness  in  seeing  others  break  down:  we  think 


J  IT  It 


'^^^ 


' 


ME7IIODS   OF   n-ORA'  LV  THE  HOME.  339 

2  |--1  the  sprin,.  of  life  stronger  in  us.  We  strain  and  ben.I 
the  bow  unt,l  .t  snaps,  and  then  leave  olhers  to  repeat  for  them- 
selves  our  folly." 

"I  have  often  wondered,"  said  John  Rocheford,  "at  the  dif 
fcren,  ways  in  whieh  women  do  their  ,vork;  a,,  indeed,  .he  voo^ 

tod  and  fa„g„e.    I  remember  onee  I  was  out  with  a  party  „f 
Bentlemen  on  a  survey,  and  we  happened  on  a  rainy  summer 
week ;  the  first  evening  we  took  refuge  in  a  farm-house      AsTe 
were  we.,  and  there  was  no  stove  up  but  in  the  large    neat 
k,tchen  we  were  seated  near  that  to  d^  ourselves,  while  the 
housewfe  got  supper.     Wishing  to  give  us  something  hot  she 
made  flannel   or  griddle-eakes.     By  the  time  the  eakes  were 
n..xed  she  had  a  bowl,  a  eouple  of  saueers,  a  fork,  spoon  and 
pan  m  use,  and  her  baking-table  pretty  well  eovered  with  sifted 
flour,  h      gnddle  then  being  greased,  she  brought  her  pan 
cake-batter,  and  w„h  a  large   .spoon    dipped   some  upon   the 
gnddle;  desp.te  her  eare,  some  drops  fell  on  stove  and  heart 
every  t,me  she  greased  the  griddle  she  went  to  and  from  he; 
table  w,,h  the  greaser,  and  then  to  and  from  the  table  with  h 

mg  ,h  tea-table.  a  eup,  a  plate,  a  knife  a.  a  time,  between  whiles 
of  puttmg  on  and  turning  and  removing  her  eakes.  She  was 
nearly  an  hour  in  preparing  her  supper,  and  an  hour  in  elearing 
.away,  for  some  fleeks  of  batter  had  fallen  on  floor,  stove  an! 
table;  she  had  soiled  a  good  many  dishes;  her  table  was  to 
serub;  her  stove  to  rub  up,  and  before  all  was  in  its  aceustomed 
order  the  good  woman  was  hot  and  exhausted 

„h7';°/T'  r™'"'  ""^  '■"*"""'  ='"'°='  ='<>«ly  similar;  a„- 
ol„rt,dyk,tehen  sheltered  us  from  the  rain,  and  its  mistress 
baked  akes  for  our  supper.  First  she  wen.  to  the  china-elose, 
n  tray,  an„  put.,ng  the  tea-dishes  on  it,  in  but  two  journeys 
10  the  closet  her  table  was  nieely  set    Then  with  her  .^y  ,,h. 


vm, 


ut 


I  .  J 


'  I 


!)     ' 


340 


T//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


visited  her  store-closet,  and  brought  to  the  table  at  one  trip 
butter,  bread,  cream,  preserves,  cold  meat,  and  so  on.  That  care 
being  off  her  mind,  she  put  her  griddle  on  ihe  stove  and  opened 
the  draught.  Next  she  went  to  her  store-closet  for  material  for 
her  cakes.  She  mixed  the  cakes  in  a  large  pitcher,  with  a 
strong  v-gg-beater.  First  she  put  into  the  pitcher  the  buttermilk 
and  soda ;  then  she  beat  the  eggs  on  a  plate  and  turned  them 
in ;  then  put  in  the  flour,  salt,  and  other  ingredients ;  when  the 
batter  was  ready  the  baking-table  was  unsoiled,  atwJ  only  a 
saucer  and  an  egg-beater  lay  on  it  for  washing.  She  set  open 
the  oven-door,  and  stood  within  it  two  plates  for  her  cakes,  and 
the  dish  with  her  greaser  ;  then  she  rubbed  the  griddle  well  with 
salt,  and  so  only  greased  it  about  one-fifth  as  much  as  the  other 
housewife,  saving  smoke  and  trouble.  She  poured  the  cakes 
upon  the  griddle  from  the  nose  of  the  pitcher,  so  saving  all  dripi- 
ping,  and  between  whiles  she  set  the  pitcher  on  the  hearth,  so 
that  she  had  no  journeys  to  and  from  the  table;  in  fact,  .she  never 
left  the  stove  while  she  baked,  but  stepping  back  a  little  from 
the  heat  she  chatted  with  us,  and  in  half  an  hour  from  the  time 
when  she  began  to  get  supper  she  had  the  meal  all  on  the  tabic 
in  an  orderly  room,  and  when  suppei  was  ended  she  cleared  it 
away  in  half  an  hour.  Tliere  was  no  stove  to  poli.sh;  no  tabic 
to  scrub;  no  .spots  on  the  floor  were  to  be  wiped  up,  and  the 
work  ended,  she  resumed  her  white  apron  and  sat  down  on  the 
porch  in  her  rocking-chair,  evidently  knowing  how  to  rest,  as 
well  as  how  to  work." 

"  That's  it;  that's  it,"  .said  the  Doctor;  "  the  thing  is  to  know 
hmt)  to  do  it.  Mothers  should  not  be  content  to  teach  their 
daughVrs  housework,  but  how  to  do  it  in  the  quickest,  nicest 
way;  not  merely  instructing  in  the  ingredients  that  form  a  pound- 
cake, but  how  to  use  the  fewest  utensils,  and  the  least  time  and 
troubio  in  compounuing  it ;  sorrxe  vvorneii,  .'inu  {lelieatc  wofnen 
too,  have  a  fear  of  seeming  tasy  in  work.     Whose  business  is  it 


' 


METHODS  OF  WORK  IN  THE  HOME. 


541 


hew  iheyscem  if  the  work  is  properly  done,  and  their  own  health 
and  comfort  are  cared  for?     Are  health  and  comfort  things  of 
small  account  ?     We  have  societies  for  prevention  of  crueUy  to 
animals  and  to  children :  I  wish  we  had  a  society  for  preventing 
housewives  and  house-mothers  from  being  cruel  to  themselves. 
They  think  it  'looks  foolish'  to  lie  down  in  daytime;  it  '  looks 
lazy- to  sit  while  they  pare  vegetables,  or  mix  cake,  or  wipe 
dishes,  or  polish  knives;  it 'looks  extravagant'  to  cover  their 
working-tables  with  oil-cloths,  and  to  use  plenty  of  mats  and 
rugs,  and  ammonia,  or  borax,  or  soda  for  cleaning,  instead  of 
driving   all   their  own    failing  vitality  into   scrubbing-brushes. 
And  by  these  false  ideas  of  '  looks '-I  wish  the  word  had  never 
been  heard  of-thcy  reduce  themselves  to  invalids  who  must  lie 
down  all  the  time,  or  the  over-active   life  er.ds  in  premature 
death,  or  the  extravagance  runs  into  doctors'  and  druggists'  and 
asylum  bills.     How  illogical  we  humans  are!  as  I  look  at  my 
patients,  I  often  think  we  are  all  a  little  mad!" 

"You  impress  me,"  said  Doctor  Nugent,  "with  the  enormity 
of  an  evil  which  1  never  before  rca'ized.  The  book  which  Mr. 
Rocheford  suggests  should  be  written,  and  Aunt  Sophronia, 
who  knows  how  to  do  all  kinds  of  housework  in  the  very  best 
manner,  must  write  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  replied ;  "  I  am  quite  too  old  to  turn  authoress, 
but  I  feel  the  great  importance  of  what  has  been  said,  and  I  am 
resolved  in  my  little  sphere,  here  in  the  village  and  the  countiy 
around,  to  try  more  and  more  to  impress  on  my  young  friends 
the  need  of  taking  care  of  themselves ;  of  having  a  little  reserve 
strength  laid  up  for  emergencies,  and  not  every  day  over-drawing 
our  account  on  vitality.  As  has  been  said,  the  trouble  lies  in 
ignorance,  not  in  labor.  It  is  not  that  there  is  too  much  in  the 
world  to  be  tlone,  but  that  wc  do  not  know  how  to  do  it;  we 
our  work  less  by  having  a  right  way  of  perform 


make 

Method  is  the  time  and  strength-saver,  and 

to  bilking,  boiling  and  di.sh-wash:ng. 


ng  It 
reason  is  to  be  applied 


7*1 


1  J|i 


r  i 


Ml 


342 


77r^   COMPLETE  HOME, 


How  much  and  how  often  have  I  thought  of  that  evening's 

conversation !     What  important  themes  it  touched,  and  themes 

so  often  under-estimated !     We  do  not  hve  in  a  lazy  age :  it  is 

an  age  of  activity,  and  yet  of  poorly  distributed  activity  often. 

times,  where  a  few  members  of  a  fliinily  arc  striving  t>  do  the 

work  of  all,  and  fathers  and    mothers,  or  conscientious  elder 

daughters,  are  doing  the  share  of  work  lawfully  belonging  to 

indolent  and  over-indulged  juniors;  the  one  party  getting  too 

hiuch  and  the  other  too  little  rest.     I  notice  that  these  active 

people,  when  they  are  really  over-worked  and  worn-out,  attribute 

their  weariness  to  any  cause  but  the  right  one ;  they  will  not 

face  the  fact  that  they  are  over-wrought  and  need  repose,  that 

the  nerves  kept  at  their  best  tension  for  too  long  a  time  must  be 

relaxed  by  amusements  like  little  children's.     I  remember  once 

hearing  some  one  asV   .  '"-'mous  authoress  how  she  managed  ta 

execute  such  n       ....    i  .  .miount  of  work;  and  she  replied, 

•  Merely  by  kncv.   vr  ':nv*  w',:  proper  times  to  rest  and  to  play," 

and  a  friend  of  hers  i.^ld  me  that  she  believed  this  was  the 

secret,  for  she  had  seen  her  when  tired  drop  into  a  state  of  such 

perfect  quiescence  that  she  seemed  rather  like  a  piece  of  restfuj 

statuary  than  like  a  living  organism ;  and  that  out  in  the  woods, 

in  the  mountains,  by  the  sea,  or  by  some  mountain  stream,  she 

could  entertain  herself  with  all  the  abandon  of  a  child. 

Oik;  of  the  most  famous  of  the  superintendents  of  our  State 
Lunatic  A.sylums  says:  "We  all  know  that  a  steam-engine, 
calculated  to  do  a  certain  amount  of  work  in  a  day,  will  wear 
out  very  rapidly  if  forccil  to  do  double  that  work.  And  as  the 
human  body  is  composed  of  a  variety  of  the  most  delicately 
constructed  organs,  each  designed  to  perform  a  certain  amount 
and  'character  of  work  witliin  certain  limits,  and  in  a  .specified 
time,  so  every  effort  to  compel  these  organs  to  do  more  work 
in  a  pivcn  time  than  they  were  designed  by  their  Constructor  ta 
do,  will  sjKJcdily  derange  their  action  and  give  rise  to  disea.sc." 


'f 


(I'lrtl 


METHODS   OF   WORK  /X  THE   HOME. 


343 


I 


And  still  there  comes  that  cry,  especially  from  house -mothers, 
that  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  work  that  they  must  do,  and  it  is 
an  amount  which  is  wearing  them  out.     The  question  is  first  tc 
sift  the  work  to  the  really  needful  and  the  fairly  required,  and 
then  to  know  how  to  do  in  the  very  best  time-and-labor-saviny 
methods  that  which  remains.     For  instance,  when  it  comes  to 
this  closest  question  of  labor-saving,  when   only  one  pair  of 
woman's    hands   are   ready  to   do   a   family's  work,  and   that 
woman  must  have  resting  time,  let  her  cut  off  scrupulously  all 
labor  that  is  for  mere  ornament,  in  dress  and  furnishings  ;  let 
there  be  plain  hems  now;  by-and-by  these  little  girls  will  have 
grown  up,  and  these  boys  will  be  old  enough  to  help  more,  to 
bring  in  less  mud,  and  to  wear  out  less  clothes,  anil  then  you 
can  have  fancy  quilts,  and  toilettes,  and  pillow-shams,  and  aprons, 
and  underclothes.     Only  try  now  to  spare  the  mother  to  train 
up  her  children  in  helpfulness,  kindness,  courtesy,  home-loving, 
and  it  will  seem  after  all  but  a  little  whilr^  until  the  problem  has 
solved  itself;  and  to-day's  little  hinderers  will  be  to-morrow's 
little  helpers,  and  you  can  have  ^  hat  you  now  crave  of  pretty 
Uiings,  and  are  now  by  your   common-sense  denied.     Again, 
*cse  over-ta.\cd  housewives  forget  that  there  is  rest  to  be  gained 
in  many  ways :  First,  by  change  of  work.     Don't  stand  at  the 
ironing-board  until  you  are  ready  to  drop,  but  go  out  on  tl>e 
porch,  or  into  the  sitting-room  and  peel  the  potatoes  and  turnips. 
Again,  there  is  rest  \n.  exercise :  you  have  .sewed,  and  nursed 
baby,  and  washed  dishes,  and  have  not  looked  out-of-doors  this 
long  while;  go  out-of-doors,  ivalk  about  your  garden,  or  go  to 
.see  your  neighbor,  or  take  a  friendly  look  at  the  cov/s  in  the 
pasture,  or  at  the  poultry  in  the  yard.     Hut  there  is  a  fatigue- 
that  is  not  to  be  healed  by  change  of  work  nor  by  walking  :  it 
needs  f>irfict  qiiiit.     Don't  always  fancy  that  you  can  rest  by 
changing  or  by  out-of-door  exercise.     When  you  feel  languid 
and  weak,  unattracted  by  out-of-docs,  ind  when  to  move  eyes 


f'f 


Ji  I 


If 


;:| 


344 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


P 


or  hands  seems  as  hard  as  to  move  feet,  be  wise  in  time :  go  and 
rest.      Smooth  your  liair,  rinse  your  face  and  liands,  take  off 
your  shoes,  lie  down  on  your  bed  or  on  a  lounge  in  a  shaded 
room,  or  recline  in  a  big  chair,  and  shut  your  eyes  and  your 
ears,  and  be  resolved  to  rest.     Do  this  even  if  it  deprives  the 
fhmily  of  their  dessert  at   dinner,  or   their  warm   biscuits  for 
supper,  or  their  cake  for  over  Sunday;  it  will  be  much  better  for 
them  to  lack  these  things  for  a  few  times  than  to  go  to  your 
funeral,  or  endure  a  six  months'  reign  of  Biddy  in  the  kitchen. 
Even  if,  as  I  can  hardly  believe  possible,  some  uncomprehending 
masculine  grumbles  at  the  lack  of  his  wonted  luxuries,  never 
mind  :  people  often  do  not  understand  what  is  for  their  real  good. 
Some  women  wear  out  their  vitality  in  doing  work  not  fairly 
required  of  them.     They,  by  a  foolish  yielding  to  unjust  en- 
croachments, not  only  shorten  their  own  lives,  but  aggravate 
the   selfishness   or   ignorance    and    future   remorse   of   others. 
Thus,  while  there  is  a  husband  and  a  farm-hand  or  two,  cN-en  a 
son,  possibly,  the  housewife  may  be  left  to  get  licr  own  wood, 
to  cut  or  pick  up  her  own  kindling,  or  be  exi>ectcd  to  car>y  a 
lunch  to  workers  in  the  field-this.  too.  when  she  has  a  family 
to  wash,  iron,  cook,  bake,  scrub  and  nurse  for.     To  submit  to 
such  demands  is  absurd.     The  ones  who  make  them,  do  not 
J-ealizc  what  they  arc  asking;  to  set  the  matter  plainly  before 
them,  and  positively  refuse  to  go  beyond  a  decent  limit,  would 
bring  ail  things  right.     There  is  a  deal  of  difference  between 
fk-mness  and  quarrelling. 

Another  thing  that  i.s  to  be  considered  in  regard  to  over- 
working and  under-resting  is.  that  as  all  clocks  need  winding, 
so  all  human  brains  and  bodies  need  to  he  wound  up  by  sleep-' 
ing.  No  one  ever  gained  a  jxTmanent  advantage  by  depriving 
himself  of  needed  sleep.  Regular  and  ..himdant  sleep  at  night 
is  needful  to  maintain  the  health  of  all  ages  and  conditions. 
Sleep  before  midnight  is  more  refreshing  than  after.     No  one 


,. 


. 


r 


,. 


METh'ODS  OF   WORK  IN  THE  HOME.  345 

Who  is  active  in  brain  or  body  during  his  waking  hours  will  get 

00  much  sleep.  Let  hin.  sleep  all  he  can.  Don't  steal  sleep 
hours  for  do.ng  little  extra  things  which  had  better  not  be  done 
at  all.  Get  to  bed  regularly  at  an  early  hour. and  do  not  rise 
earlier  than  you  need  merely  to  be  called  an  early  riser,  a  great 
worker,  and  to  boast  of  having  half  your  work  done  before  your 
neighbors  were  up. 

Some  people  not  only  fail  to  give  their  exhausted  energies 
s  eepmg  time  /.  which  to  recuperate,  but  they  fail  to  give  them 
plenty  of  easily  digested' food  .;.  which  to  recuperate      They 
get  too  tired  to  eat.  or  they  go  to  their  meals  over-exhausted 
and  as  soon  as  they  have  swallowed  a  little  food,  for  which  they' 
did  not  half  care,  they  jump  up  from  the  table  and  go  to  work 
agam.     The  stomach  cannot  assimilate  the  food;  the  veins  are 
not  filled  w,th  good  blood;  they  have  no  vitality  to  distribute  to 
nerves  and  muscles,  and  flesh  grows  flabby  and  pale;  the  nerves 
w.tch  and  tremble;  the  muscles  do  not  half  work;  the  whole 
frame  ,s  dropping  to  pieces  for  want  of  what  God  has  ofll-red  to 
U  and  foolish  humanity  has  neglectcd-food  and  sleep' 

1  was  discoursing  somewhat    in   this  fashion  one  day  very 
energetically  to  n,y  three  nieces,  with  Mary  VVatkins,  and  Sara 
and  Grace  VVinton,  who  had  come  to  tea  with  me 

"otill."  said  Mary  Watkins.  -granted  that  we  re.t  as  we  can 
«Ieep  and  eat  as  best  we  may.  cut  ofT  the  superfluous,  reject  the' 
bringing  of  wood  and  drawing  of  water-vet.  afle,  nil.  we  find  a 
deal  of  work  which  we  must  do.  work  enough  to  make  u.,  very 
t.red;  especially  with  two  or  three  or  more  little  children  on 
hand,  poor  maid  or  none,  and  churning,  pickling,  preserving 
lard-rendering,  house-work,  daily  and  weekh-  cleaning,  mend- 
ing and  making   we  .stand  a  fair  chance  of  being  over-worked 
and  under-rested,  do  the  best  we  may." 
^^  Unless  xso  !..-„nw  5ome  s^ry  superior  ,nethods.'  said  H'-.st«- 
yustuh.t  r  positively  insist  on  hav.Bg  Autit  .Suphronia  teU 
us,    said  Miriam. 


m 


;:f' 


346 


THE   COMPLETE  IJOAfE. 


"  Before  I  say  anything  else,"  I  remarked,  "  I  must  impress 
it  on  you  that  mind,  and  body  are  so  closely  connected,  that 
mind  can  tire  body  out  by  carrying  burdens  even  if  they  are 
only  imaginary.     We  wear  out  minds  and  bodies  by  enumer- 
ating to  ourselves  our  future  toils.     To-day  we  are  ironing ;  and 
.f  as  we  iron  we  forecast  how  hard  it  will  be  in  the  fall  to  put 
up  twenty  jars  of  pickles  and  jellies,  and  as  many  more  of 
preserves,  and  how  very  hard  the  fall-cleaning  will  be,  and  how 
weary  the  work  at   killing-time  will   seem,  why,  then,  taking 
trouble  in  advance  of  need,  and  paying  heavy  interest  for  it 
we  exhaust   ourselves.       Listen    to  what  John    Newton  says:' 
•We   can   easily  manage    if  we    will    only  take   each  day  the 
burden  appointed  for  it.     But  the  burden  will  be  too  heavy  for 
us  if  we  add  to  it  the  weight  of  to-morrow  before  we  are  called 
to  bear  it.' " 

"That  suits  me."  said  Helen,  "for  that  is  one  way  in  which  I 
am  always  tiring  myself  Counting,  for  instance,  in  my  mind 
how  many  clothes  the  children  will  require  to  have  made  in  a 
year." 

"Now,"  said  Miriam,  "we  have  laid  up  in  our  minds  that 
good  coun.se!.  and  the  theory  of  not  forecasting  trouble.  And 
now  ue  must  come  to  the  practical  part.  There  is  work  to  be 
done:  now  how  to  do  it ;  what  method  shall  make  the  burden 
h-ght?  how  shall  we  gather  the  rose  of  duty  done  without 
tearing  ourselves  on  its  thorns  ?" 

"I  do  not  sec,"  I  said,  "but  you  had  better,  if  you  have  any 
especial  work  in  your  minds,  come  to  the  point  about  that  at 
once,  and  we  will  all  make  the  best  suggestions  that  we  can. 
That  will  at  least  be  fully  practical," 

"All  right."  spoke  up  Helen.  "  I've  put  a  new  oil-cloth  on 
my  two  big  halls.  The  last  on  •  wore  out  too  quickly  by  K% 
and  took  so  long  to  .scrub  that  I  drc.ulci  having  the  chamber-' 
maid  get  at  it.    She  spent  all  the  morning  on  it." 


METHODS   OF   WORK  IN  THE  HOME.  347 

"  No  scrubbing,"  I  said,  "  if  you  want  a  nice  oil-cloth,  and  one 
to  last  a  long  while.     Let  it  be  swept  with  a  soft  broom  •  then 
on  sweeping-day,  after  the  dusting  is  done,  tie  up  your  broom  in 
a  bag  of  old  flannel,  and  dry-wipe  the  oil-cloth:  it  can  be  done 
ui  a  i^^v  minutes,  and  will    make  it   look   clean  and   bright 
Treated  in  this  way.  it  will  be  long  before  the  cloth  needs  any 
washmg;  if  it  gets  a  spot  on  it,  wipe  it  off  in  warm  skim-milk 
When  it  must  be  washed,  mix  a  little  borax  and  hard  soap  in 
part  of  a  pail  of  warm  water;  rub  it  well  with  this,  but  use  no 
brush;  have  ready  half  a  pail  of  warm  water  and  skimmed  milk 
and  wipe  off  the  oil-cloth  with  this  and  a  flannel;  set  open  the' 
doors,  and  let  it  air-dry.     Wash  it  as  little  as  possible;  when, 
after  two  years  or  so  of  use,  it  begins  to  look  dim  and  wear  a 
little,  have  it  well  washed  and  dried,  and  varnish  it  thoroughly: 
you  will  have  to  keep  the  hall  unused  for  two  or  three  ""days 
while  the  varnish  hardens.     Cared  for  in  this  way  a  good  oil- 
cloth will  last  for  years," 

My  auditors  had  all  been  taking  notes  in  their  pocket-note- 
books.     When  they  had  finished,  Mary  Watkins  said  : 

"That  is  very  satisfactory;  now  tell  me  something.  This 
morning  I  spent  more  than  an  hour,  and  nearly  scrubbed  off 
the  ends  of  my  fingers  in  cleaning  off  some  rust  from  my  best 
knives,  which  had  been  put  by  for  two  or  three  months.  Now, 
I  want  to  know  first,  how  I  could  have  prevented  the  rusting? 
second,  how  to  clean  it  off  well  and  easily?  and  third,  how'to 
clean  my  knives?" 

"  First,  then,  the  knives  were  possibly  a  little  damp  when  put 
away,  or  were  in  a  damp  place.  Before  putting  by  your  knives, 
they  sliould  have  been  well  rubbed  with  a  bit  of  newspaper." 
Then  you  should  have  laid  down  a  piece  of  paper,  and  folded 
the  edge  of  it  over  a  knife;  then  another  knife,  laying  them 
hanrlic  to  blade  with  the  paper  covering  each  one.  Put  up  each 
half-dozen  in  a  separate  paper.     Then  wrap  up  these  papered 


■r' 

4 


I  '  f 


348 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


Vf 


I    * 


!i;'P 


knives  In  a  piece  of  chamois  leather  or  a  strip  of  flannel,  and 
shut  them  up  in  a  paste-board  box;   put  this  in  an  ordinarily 
dry  place,  and  your  knives  vill  never  rust.     Second:  how  to 
clean  off  rust.     Wrap  the  rusted  article  in  a  cloth,  soaked  in 
kerosene  oil,  and  let  it  be  for  twenty-four  hours ;   then  scour 
with  bath-brick;  rub  with  whiting  or  the  old-fashioned  rotten- 
stone;   then   rub  with   sweet  oil,  and   after  this,  wash  in   hot 
suds;  dry  well  with  paper,  and  put  by  as  just  directed.     Very 
deep  spots  of  red  rust  can  be  eradicated  by  rubbing  them  with 
salt  and  vinegar.     Third:  how  to  clean  your  knives.     Use  bath- 
brick  or  a  little  well-powdered  ashes.     Have  a  board    for  the 
purpose,  with  a  bo.x  of  your  cleaning-powder  and  two  large 
corks,  say  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter,  and  two  inches  high : 
use  one  cork  to  rub  the  moistened  powder  on  the  knives,  being 
careful  not  to  bend  the  blade,  but  keep  it  flat  to  the  board;  then 
rub  with  the  other  cork  and  dry  dust  or  powder ;  after  this,  rub 
the  knife  well  with  a  scrap  of  newspaper.     Many  people  ruin 
their  knife-cleaning  by  wiping  on  a  cloth  or  towel,  which  is  sure 
to  leave  dampness  or  a  streak  of  some  sort.     Two  or  three  times 
weekly,  .spread  your  knives  on  a  tray  in  the  sun  for  an  hour. 
Knives  should  be  washed  in  clean  water,  and  scoured  as  soon  as 
washed— it  spoils  them  to  lie  wet;  also  never  throw  them  in 
a   pan  of  hot   water:   that   spoils   alike    handles   and   temper. 
Hold  them  by  their  handles  while  you  wash  the  blades  in  warm 
suds;  then  if  the  handles  need  water,  shake  them  through  warm 
water,  holding  the  knives  by  the  blades.     Keep  knives  in  a  diy 
box  by  themselves.     Always  have  for  use  in  the  cooking,  lead 
or  iron  spoons  and  certain  forks  and  knives,  which  are  not  used 
on  the  table.     Many  people  use  their  table-cutlery  and  spoons 
in  stirring  cooking  and  in  pot-scraping,  and  consequently  never 
have  anything  nice  for  the  table." 

"  Speaking  of  scraping  skillets  and  saucepans,"  said  Miriam, 
"let  mc  tell  you  that  shells,  a  large  clam  or  muscle  shell,  are 


METHODS   OF   WORK  m   THE  HOME.  349 

worth  ten  knives.  I  have  some  shells  kept  in  the  kitchen 
always  for  this  use;  they  save  time,  and  make  better  work  of 
that  part  of  the  cleaning." 

"Possibly."  said  Helen,  "you  can  make  some  suggestions 
about  cleaning  tins.  Every  once  in  a  while  I  find  that  our  tin^ 
cups,  pails  and  basins  look  like  dull  lead;  I  say  they  must  be 
scoured,  and  the  kitchen-maid  spends  half  a  day  at  it,  covering 
the  table  with  brick-dust  and  ashes,  getting  behind-hand  m  the 
work,  and  losing  her  temper." 

"This  is  one  of  the  ways,"  I  said,  "in  which  a  little  daily 
neglect  doubles  dur  ordinary  work;  tins  need  particular  care  but 
.t  takes  very  little  time  if  regularly  given.     The  tins  must  not  be 
washed  in  water  where  greasy  plates  or  meat-dishes  have  been. 
The  common  plan  is  to  suds  them  out  after  the  dishes;  wipe 
them  with  a  towel,  and  hang  them  up;  in  a  week  their  bright- 
ness is  lost.     Tins  must  be  washed  in  strong,  hot  suds,  where"  no 
other  dishes  have  been  put;  rub  them  hard  in  the  suds;  then 
shake  them  out;  dash  a  little  scalding  water,  with  a  cup,  on  them, 
and  turn  them  to  drain  in  a  warm   place.     As  soon  as  they 
arc  dry,  take  half  a  newsp.per,  and  rub  them  vigorously  outside 
and  in :  they  will  shine  like  new.     About  once  a  week,  set  them 
in  the  sun  for  an  hour  after  they  are  rubbed  with  paper.     Sedu- 
lously  treated  in  this  way,  weeks  or  months  may  pass  without 
their   needing  an   especial    scouring.     When   more   than   this 
cleaning  which  I  have  indicated  is  needed,  take  a  flannel  well 
sprinkled  with  dry  whiting,  and  rub  them  hard  with  that,  and 
finish  off  with  paper.     Paper  is  one  of  the  best  materials  for 
cleaning   that  we  can   have   in   the   house.     Knives   and   tins 
nibbed  with  it  preserve  their  brightness;  if  the  stove  is  polished 
twice  a  week,  and  rubbed  hard  with  paper  on  the  other  days, 
with  ordinary  care  it  will  -.Iw  >v=^  look  clean  and  bright.     Paper 
is  better  than  a  cloth  for  r-  .,l>ing  windows  and  looking-glasses 
and  table-glass  " 


4i 


I  ,"i 


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1':/     '    - 

;i  ; 

lilt' 

350 


T//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


"As  wc  arc  on  the  subject  of  cleaning,"  said  Sara,  "  I  might 
remark  that  people  give  themselves  a  deal  of  needless  trouble 
about  taking  care  of  their  silver.     The  silver  is  washed  in  water 
with  other  dishes,  is  washed  perhaps  in  water  that  is  half  cold  ; 
then  it  lies  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  before  it  is  wiped ;  and  is 
wiped  possibly  on  a  damp  towel.     This  usage  keeps  it  always 
dim  in  its  color,  and  it  needs  a  weekly  scouring  with  whiting : 
in  this  way  it  is  nearly  rubbed  to  pieces.     The  proper  way  to 
wash  silver  is,  to  wash  it  by  itself  in  scalding  hot  suds  in  which 
nothing  else  has  been  washed;  if  the  silver  is  much  soiled,  hold 
the  forks,  spoons  and  so  forth  by  the  handles,  and  pour  a  stream 
of  clear,  hot  water  over  the  soiled  parts  to  free  them  ;  then  put 
the  silver  into  the  clean  suds ;  rub  it  well  with  a  sponge  fastened 
to  a  stick ;  drain  it  out,  and  without  rinsing,  wipe  it  verx-  vigor- 
ously o,tt  i\  clean  towel:  it  will  shine  as  if  newly  polished.     Once 
a  vueek  after  the  suds,  drop  the  silver  into  a  pan  of  hot  water 
pretty  strong  of  ammonia;  wash  it  well  in  this;  wipe,  and  then 
rub  with  paper.     The  silver  will  need  no  scouring,  no  silver- 
soap  or  whiting  cleaning  for  a  six  months ;  will  look  better,  and 
List  longer." 

"Thanks,"  said  Mary  Watkins;  "that  will  save  me  some 
trouble.  Now,  how  shall  one  wash  iron-pots,  saucepans  and 
griddles  quickly  and  easily?  They  are  heavy,  and  take  a  deal 
of  time,  and  are  very  hard  on  one's  hands." 

"  It  is  well,"  I  said,  "  to  use  a  wooden-tub,  large  enough  to 
manage  them  in;  have  plenty  of  hot  water,  and  a  small,  thick 
scrubbing-brush  with  a  high  handle.  Keep  on  hand  some 
strong  sal-soda  water  or  some  fine  ashes ;  dip  the  brush  into 
either  of  these,  and  scrub  the  pot  inside  and  out.  The  brush 
protects  your  hands,  and  cleans  twice  as  well  and  quickly  as  a 
cloth ;  rinse  in  hot  water,  and  dry  on  the  stove.  Of  course 
before  putting  into  the  tub,  the  inside  should  be  scraped,  if  any- 
thing is  adhering;  and  they  should  be  rinsed,  and  the  water 


, 


METHODS   OF   WORK  LV  7J/E   HOME.  3-;, 

iLrown  out.     The  practice  of  washing  pots  and  pans  in  soHcd 
cl.sh  water,  wiping  then,  with  a  wrung-out  dish-cloth,  and  hang- 
-g  them  up  all  black  and  shiny  within  is  dirty  and  unhealthf.^ 
Llean  iron  has  a  gray  look." 

"  Nothing  saves  labor  so  n.  said  Sara,  "  as  thoroughness 

and  do.ng  things  in  the  right  ...y.     It  is  m  .h  less  trouble  to 
scou.    pans  and  pots  and  griddles  well,  than  it  is  to  half  wash 
hem;  ,f  they  are  not  well  washed,  they  will  burn,  and  the  next 
I^ng  cooked  in  them  is  likely  to  stick,  and  cause  increased 
labor.     Some  people  spend  three  times  as  much  time  as  they 
should    on    clearing   off  tables   and   washing   dishes.     Mother 
taught  us  ^-ery  carefully  how  to  do  those  things,  and  I  never  saw 
any  house  where- both  tasks  were  performed  more  speedily  and 
neatly.     Some  people  pick  up  their  dishes,  and  carry  them  off 
prom,scuously  to    sink   or   kitchen-table-knives,  silver    glass 
unscraped  plates,  cold  meats,  .set  down  together,  just  as  'it  hap^ 
pens:  cups,  platters,  plates,  tumblers,  knives,  spoons,  go  into  the 
d.sh.pan  as  they  are  picked  up;  the  confusion  embarrasses  the 
work,  and  a  long  time  is  required  to  get  it  very  poorly  done 
We  were  taught,  as  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  to  put  away 
bread,  meat,  butter,  milk-all  the  eatables  which  were  left-in 
the.r  proper  places,  and  on  proper  dishes.     Next  the  salts  were 
refilled,  the  caster  was  wiped,  and  these  were  removed.     Then 
the  kmves  were  gathered  into  a  tray,  the  forks  and  spoons  into 
a  deep  d.sh.  and   they  were  carried  off;    then  the  cups  and 
saucers  were  drained,  piled  up  together,  carried  to  the  sink  or 
wherever  they  were  to  be  washed,  and  set  in  order  there      Next 
the  glass-ware  wa.s  drained  and  removed ;  then  the  plates  and 
sauce-dishes  were  scraped  and  piled  up.     The  refuse  was  at  once 
earned  off;  the  cloth  shaken  and  folded  into  its  box :  then  all  our 
work  was  at  the  sink.     We  did  not  make  ourselves  work  by  spar- 
ing hot  water:  first,  the  glass-ware  was  washed,  wiped  and  put 
away;  then  the  silver  was  well  rubbed  in  clean,  hot  suds  pel- 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STRUT 

WEBSTER,  NY.  MS80 

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352 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME, 


ished  with  the  clean  towel  kept  for  it,  and  put  by.     The  knives 
were  washed  after  the  silver;  were  at  once-  scoured,  and  laid, 
when  rubbed  with  paper,  in  the  sunshine.     A  fresh  pan  of  dish- 
water and  a  pan  of  hot  rinsing-water  were  provided,  and  cups 
and  saucers  were  invariably  washeil  fust;    next  followed  the 
sauce-plates  and  vegetable-dishes ;  then  the  plates,  and  then  the 
meat-platters— if  ncedf  1,  we  changed  the  dish-suds  when  we 
came  to  plates  and  platters.     The  dishes  were  rinsed  through 
the  clear  water,  and  put  to  drain,  and  when  all  were  washed,  we 
began  at  those  which  had  drained  the  longest,  wiped  them  and 
put  them   in  their  places.     The  tins  were  washed  alone,  and 
then  the  cooking  utensils  in  clean  suds.     Ne.vt,  the  dish-cloths 
and  towels  were  washed  in  clean  water,  and  laid  in  the  sun,  or 
hung  up  on  a  little  frame  behind  the  stove.     The  dish-pans  and 
sink  were  well  cleaned,  the  table  wiped  ;  and  really  it  seems  afl 
if  we  did  the  work    nicely  in  the  time  which  I  have  used  in 
describing  its  order." 

"  Dear,  dear,"  said  Helen ;  "  if  I  could  get  Hannah  to  use 
such  order,  our  kitchen  work  would  be  lessened  by  one-half" 

"  Write  it  out  fairly,  and  hang  it  up  over  the  kitchen-table," 
said  Miriam.  "  I  did  that,  and  my  servant  improved  wonder- 
fully. I  told  her  to  try  it  thoroughly  for  a  month,  and  if  it  did 
not  save  her  time  and  work  she  could  try  some  other  way. 
She  tried  the  plan  of  exact  order,  and  prized  the  advantage  too 
highly  to  relapse  irto  carelessness." 

"  I  thinl.,"  said  Sara,  "  that  our  Grace  must  tell  us  how  to 
sweep  a  room.     She  makes  a  fine  art  of  that  bit  of  work." 

"Why  no,"  laughed  Grace,  "I  only  sweep  and  dust  in  a 
natural  and  proper  way  as  iny  one  does." 

"  Indeed,"  I  replied,  "  there  arc  dozens  of  different  ways  of 
dusting  and  sweeping,  and  some  of  them  will  be  good  and  soma 
very  bad.  Let  us  hear  yours.  Sweeping  and  dusting  a.e  a 
large  part  of  our  housework,  and  cun  be  a  heavy  lax  on  time 
.ind  strength." 


,. 


'M 


,. 


METmOS  OF   WORK  IN    T/m  tmME.  gg, 

"Well,  then,"  .aid   Grace,  ..I   begin  by  opening  as    ma„„ 
«•-..  ows  a.  .be  weather  will  pc,n,i..     Nex,  I  dust  all  cl  ", 
ools  and  s.all  furniture,  and  set  the,,  out  in  an  entj        „ 
the  next  room.     Then  I  remove  all  books  and  small  or„an,e«, 

.'»W  stand  wh,eh  has  been   earried  out.     Then,  I  shake  the 
Uble.  covers  and  take  them  away,  shake  the  curtain  folds  a^d 
p."  ttcn.  up,  and  with  a  feather-duster  brush  loose  d        frl 
mantels  and  heavy  furniture.     Next,  ,  look  after  cob-wX  Id 
-h  a  short-  and  broom  .  brush  out  the  dust  from  the  coders 
ad  edges  of  the  carpet.     ,f  there  is  large  furniture,  as  b 
bureau  ,„ano  or  sofa,  left  in  the  room.  I  cover  those  pi  ces  w  U,' 
ove.  kept  or  the  purpose,  or  with  sheets.     ,  pick  ;  all  1  ^ 
c  a„  ,  as  of  p,aper  or  cloth,  all    straws,  broon-wispt  or  lo.t 
h,eads,  for  you  n,ay  sweep  a  carpet  half  to  pieces  trying  to  „' 
hese  up  w,th  a  broom.     After  this,  I  sweep   from  tie  sid 
v.ardte  centre  of  the  room:  if  you  sweep  toward  a  do: 

"ri^  1= ::::::  "\;:  ri''  r  -T'  -'  -- '' 

lodges.     After  the  dust  is  all  swept  together  I 
"-  .1.=  h  md-hroom  to  collect  it  upon  the  dust-pan.    B   or 
-vcepu,g  I  d,p  my  broom  in  a  pail  of  ,l,i„  warm  sud,  and  hi" 
beat  out  all  ,he  water  from  it:  this  is  good  to  keep  thT  rol 
from  weanng,  good  to  keep  the  dust  fron,  rising.  a„,  ^J"! 

troom  becontes  duty  during  the  sweeping,  it  is  well  to  wash  it 

::  r! ::,  1 "°"' ';  "-'^  "^^^^  ^■"  ^  --  p-p--^  c-n: 

every  ueek  docs  not  become  so  diVtv     Wlion  f],.  •       • 

/•■,,,,  "-"iiy.     wncn  tlic  swccpin'r  is 

,s  ,ed       dust  all   the  wood-work  with  a  fea.her-brus     o^ 

d,..      ,T      """  ""■  """'""-''"'  """  --'"•'  "-  door. 
ndLs  w,.h  a  sponge  squeezed  out  of  ammonia  w:,.er.     I  dust 

«-  P.cturea  w,th  a  fe:,ther-brush ,   rub  the  windows  with  1 

newspaper,  sometimes  *m„i ,„  anuuonia  w:,ter;  then  J 


shake  out  the  curtains;  remove 


the  covers  from  tlic  stand 


lini: 


u  i 


,  !       S' 


!»:l!,   .   '        i' 


!  J 


F-W    ^"WJKi' 


354 


r//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


furniture  and  dust  it;  sometimes  I  take  a  very  light  broom 
tied  into  a  cotton  bar^,  and  with  it  hghtly  wipe  off  the  -wall- 
paper;  then  I  bring  back  the  furniture  and  ornaments  which  were 
carried  out.  With  such  a  cleaning  once  a  week,  a  room  only 
needs  a  little  setting  in  order  e.ich  morning  to  keep  it  nice;  the 
curtains,  carpets  and  furniture  last  at  their  best  for  a  long  while. 
If  furniture  is  left  in  the  room  and  uncovered  while  sweeping  is 
going  on,  it  gets  loaded  with  dust;  in  wiping  this  off,  much  is 
rubbed  into  the  furniture,  giving  it  a  dull,  grimy  look,  and  it 
soon  fades.  It  is  not  any  more  trouble  to  clean  things  and  set 
them  into  an  adjacent  room,  than  it  is  to  keep  moving  them  out 
of  your  way  and  then  having  a  thick  coat  of  dust  to  wipe  off 
If  our  carpets  get  stained  or  spotted,  we  wash  the  spots  carefully 
with  a  flannel  and  ammonia  water.  You  can  make  a  carpet 
look  very  bright  and  fresh  in  winter  by  sprinkling  it  well  with 
new-fallen  snow  and  sweeping  it  rapidly,  only  there  must  be  no 
fire  in  the  room  to  melt  the  snow.  To  sweep  the  carpets  now 
and  then  with  coarse  salt  is  very  good  to  brighten  them  and 
destroy  insects.  But  the  best  cleaner  and  freshener  is  a  pail  of 
ammonia  water,  wiping  the  carpet  well  with  this  and  a  flannel, 
and  leaving  the  windows  open  to  air  and  dry  it  i  hour; 

rugs  and  mats  arc  much  rejuvenated  by  such  a  rubOing.  It  is 
also  a  good  plan  to  save  tea-leaves,  and  with  them,  not  too 
moi.st,  to  sweep  dark  or  green  carpets  occasionally;  they  are 
not  good  for  light  carpets." 

"You  know,"  said  Hester,  "what  Irving  .says  of  the  good 
Dutch  housewives  of  ancient  New  York,  that  they  kept  a  parlor 
apparently  .sacred  to  nothing  but  a  weekly  ceremony  of  clean- 
ing. Weddings,  christenings  and  funerals  were  permitted  to 
take  place  in  this  beloved  apartment,  but  for  the  rest  it  stood 
closed,  except  for  its  owner's  weekly  visit  with  broom  and 
duster.  I  am  no  advocate  of  shut-up  rooms.  I  think  all  parts 
of  our  house  should  be  open  for  the  comfort  and  jjleasure  of  the 


„ 


\. 


t  I 


■*iL- 


„ 


„ 


METHODS   OF   WORK  IN  THE  HOME 


family.  Still  there  arc  rooms  which  are  used  comparatively 
little,  and  for  these  we  should  not  be  enslaved  by  the  Dutch 
housewife's  idea  of  a  weekly  cleaning.  They  may  not  need  to 
be  cleaned  so  often,  and  we  Ghou'd  not,  as  a  mere  form,  encum- 
ber ourselves  with  needless  tasks.  If  rooms,  that  arc  not  in 
regular  use,  arc  sunned  and  aired  and  looked  after  each  week, 
it  is  enough  to  give  them  a  thorough  cleaning  when  they  need 
it.  We  must  control  our  house-work,  and  not  allow  it  to  con- 
trol us.     The  less  is  made  for  the  greater." 

"  I  am  glad  you  mentioned  that,"  said  Miriam,  "  for  I  have 
often  seen  people  needlessly  fatiguing  themselves  to  perform 
work  done  to  suit  a  rule,  and  not  to  illl  a  need." 

"Washing,"  said  Mary  Watkins,  "is  a  great  burden,  and  often 
a  family  bugbear;  let  us  hear  if  there  is  any  way  to  lighten  that 
burden.  Sara,  what  was  your  mother's  wisdom  about  washing- 
day?     She  will  be  a  prime  authority." 

Just  as  Sara  was  about  to  reply,  Cousin  Ann  herself  entered, 
and  was  at  once  requested  to  give  us  the  fruits  of  her  experience.' 
She  said  that  she  had  lately  given  some  advice  on  this  subject 
to  her  daughters-in-law,  and  she  would  repeat  the  substance  of 
It  to  us.     "If  possible,  have  only  one  washing-day  in  a  week; 
have  ^;/.- every  week,  for  if  clothes  lie  long  soiled  they  arc  harder 
to  wash,  and  wear  out  faster.     Have,  if  possible,  the  washing- 
day  early  in  the  week.     Remember  that  washing  is  very  hard 
work;  more  young  women  break  down  their  strength  with  wash- 
ing than  with  any  other  toil :  therefore,  go  at  it  reasonably.     As 
it  is  such  hard  work,  be  sure,  in  the  first  place,  and  do  not  unde*. 
take  too  much  other  work  on  washing-day;  have,  then,  as  little 
extra  work  to  do  as  possible.     Don't  churn  and"  bake,  and  clean 
and  wash  all  on  one  day.     For  this  reason  I  should  say  if  the 
young  housewife  does  her  worlc  r.lone,  she  had  much  better 
wash  on  Tuesday  than  on  Monday.     You  sec,  often  over  Sun- 
day the  pies  and  the  bread  come  short,  and  will  not  hold  out 


M ,  If 


85G 


7//yj    COMPLETE  HOME. 


tiiilil  Tuesday,  and  there  is  nothing  on  hand  for  dinner,  and  if 
no  churning  was  done  on  Sunday  there  is  churning  for  Monday, 
and  all  these  duties  are  too  much  for  one  woman,  especially 
when  we  consider  that  on  Mondays  the  house  needs  a  little 
extra  setting  in  order,  and  generally  there  is  a  baby  or  small 
child  to  need  attention.  If  the  house  mother  bakes,  roasts, 
churns,  nurses  baby,  and  washes,  she  gets  exhausted  ;  her  vital- 
ity is  sapped;  she  is  laying  the  foundation  of  disease  and  inviting 
premature  death.  How  many  such  over-working  mothers  tell 
you  that  the  baby  is 'always  cross  on  Monday!'  No  wonder; 
not  only  must  care  be  hastily  bestowed,  but  the  over-heated, 
tired,  worried,  excited  mother  .^its  down  to  nurse  the  babe,  and 
he  draws  poison  and  not  health  from  her  fevered  veins ;  the  child 
.sleeps  poorly,  and  cries  loudly;  his  nerves  and  veins  are  sharing 
the  maternal  unrest;  he  is  wakeful  all  night  to  help  wear  out 
his  mother,  and  half  the  week  passes  before  the  natural  tone  of 
the  outraged  little  system  is  restored. 

"  Now  suppose  on  Monday  the  young  house-mother  makes 
,  t'dy  her  house;  sees  that  bread  is  prepared  to  last  at  least  until 
Thursday;  churns,  gets  pies  or  some  dessert  ready  for  next  day, 
and  roasts  or  boils  a  piece  of  meat  also  for  wash-day  dinner;  then 
in  the  evening,  if  there  is  a  press  of  milk,  it  will  be  better  to 
churn  again,  so  as  not  to  start  washing-day  at  the  churn.  Then 
when  the  babe  is  in  bed  the  mother  prepares  the  clothes  for  the 
wash.  The  white  clothes  are  divided,  coarse  and  fine ;  get  ready 
for  each  lot  a  tub  half-full  of  pretty  warm  water,  with  a  large 
tablespoon ful  of  soft-soap  and  a  teaspoon  of  borax,  or  half  a 
tcaspoonful  of  sal-soda  powder,  stirred  in  it.  Into  this  put  the 
clothes  to  soak,  pressing  each  piece  well  into  the  water;  if  any 
pieces  are  very  much  soiled,  as,  for  instance,  socks,  or  working- 
.shirts,  put  them  in  a  pail  alone.  In  the  morning  take  a  pounder, 
not  a  large,  heavy,  old-fashioned  affair,  but  one  about  twice  as 
large  as  a  potatoe-masher,  and  pound  your  fine  clothes  a  little; 


METHODS    OF   WORK  IN  THE   HOME. 


357 


then  wring  each  piece  out  into  your  washing-tub  of  hot  suds; 
you  will  be  surprised  to  see  that  half  the  dirt  is  already  out  of 
your  clothes,  and  the  other  half  yields  ver>'  easily  to  a  little 
rubbing.     The  advantage  gained  in  time  and  hard  work  by  this 
soaking  of  the  clothes  is  an  additional  reason  for  having  the 
washing  done  on  Tuesday.     Clothes  should  not  be  boiled  much, 
as  it  yellows  and  rots  the  fibre;  often  they  will  look  as  well  for 
being  put  in  a  tub  and  having  boiling  water  poured  over  them, 
lying  in  it  until  it  cools,  instead  of  being  boiled  in  a  tin  boiler.' 
After  the  boiling,  the  clothes  should  pass  through  warm,  clear 
water  before  being  put  into  a  light-bluing  water,  as  unless  all 
soap-suds  is  taken  out  of  them  before  the  blue,  they  will  have  a 
dull,  yellowish  look.     Clothes  should  be  turned  in  the  washing, 
and  '■nould  be  hung  up  wrong-side-out.     If  young  women  wourd 
only  remember  not  to  mix  other,  work  with  washing;  if  they 
would  not  hurry  too  piuch  to  be  'smart  about  getting  done;'  if 
they  would  lighten  the  task  by  soaking  the  clothes,  and  by  using 
a  clothes-wringer,  if  they  could  possibly  get  one,  and  if  especially 
they  would  remember  that  haste  makes  waste,  and  instead  of 
straining  their  chests  and  ruining  their  backs  by  lifting  whole 
tubs  of  water,  or  boilers  of  clothes,  or  by  carrying  to  the  line  a 
basket  heaped  with  wet  clothes,  when  by  lifting  water  by  pailsful, 
and  by  carrying  part  of  their  clothes  only  at  once,  they  could 
spare  the  dangerous  strain,  we  should  have  fewer  broken-down 
women." 

Martha  came  to  call  us  to  tea. 

"Oh,"  cried  Helen,  "do  wait  one  minute  until  I  ask  Cousin 
Ann  how  to  iron  lace-curtains:  mine  must  be  done  up." 

"You  do  not  iron  them  at  all."  said  Cousin  Ann;  "have 
ready  .some  long  strips  of  wood— like  quilting-frames— as  long 
as  your  curtains.  Wind  them  with  cloth,  and  lay  them  on 
chairs  in  the  sun;  stretch  the  curtain  and  pin  it  to  these  frames, 
pulling  every  scallop  and  curve  even;  be  careful  to  take  new 
pins  that  will  not  rust." 


St 

.4 


11  n 


358 


THE   COMILETE  HOME. 


i  r 


I 


"Thank  you;  and  now  just  one  word :  why  did  my  red  break- 
fast-cloth and  napkins  fade  sooner  than  Miriam's?" 

"Because,  first,  too  much  soap  was  rubbed  on  them;  and, 
second,  they  were  dried  in  the  sun:  colored  things  should  be 
dried  in  the  shade." 

After  tea.  Cousin  Ann  was  again  assailed  by  her  young  friends 
with  questions,  but  secured  her  release  by  promising  them 
certain  new  recipes.  These  I  obtained  from  Miriam's  book,  as 
follows : 

m  Uses  of  a  Pan  of  Bread  Sponge.— i.  Take  one  pint  of 
the  sponge,  add  one  tablespoon  sugar,  one  tablespoon  mcitcd 
butter,  one  egg,  and  set  it  to  rise  for  biscuits. 

2.  Take  another  pint  of  the  sponge,  one  cup  of  molasses, 
three  tablespoons  sour  rtiilk  or  cream,  one-half  teaspoon  each  of 
soda  and  cream  of  tartar,  twg  eggs,  one  nutmeg,  and  set  it'  to 
rise  for  doughnuts. 

3.  Knead  the  rest  of  the  sponge  as  for  bread. 

4.  When  the  dough  for  the  bread  is  light,  cut  off  a  piece  th'- 
size  of  a  small  bowl.     Make  up  the  rest  into  loaves. 

5.  Take  the  piece  of  reserved  dough  and  cut  it  up  fine  in  a 
pan,  add  one  cup  brown  sugar,  one  tablespoon  of  cinnamon,  one 
cup  raisins  or  currants,  one-half  cup  sour  milk,  one  spoon  soda, 
two  or  three  eggs  well  beaten,  mix  these  into  a  smooth  paste,' 
and  steam  four  hours  in  a  buttered  dish,  and  you  have  a' 
delicious  pudding. 

Scmpel.~T\\^  head,  knees,  or  part  of  the  neck  of  a  pig;  an 
amount  of  beef  from  the  neck  or  knuckle  about  equal  in  weight 
to  the  pork.  Let  these  boil  together  all  day.  When  the  mtat 
has  boiled  into  fiigmcnts,  carefully  sift  out  all  the  bones,  chof 
very  fine,  add  salt,  pepper  and  sweet  herbs  to  taste.  Let  there  be 
water  enough  to  receive  about  half  as  much  corn-meal  as  there 
is  of  meat.  Set  the  pot  back  on  the  fire,  and  stir  in  the  corn- 
meal  until  it  is  as  thick  as  hasty-pudding,  which  will  be  solid 


% 


METHODS   OF   WORK  IN  THE  HOME.  359 

When  cold.  This  is  a  delicious  breakfast  dish  cut  in  slices  and 
fried.  As  It  is  very  much  thicker  witli  meat  than  the  ordina.y 
scrapel.  it  will  l;.st  good  in  a  cold  place  for  some  time  In 
Winter  A  can  be  kept  four  or  five  weeks.  The  meat  must  bv 
carefudy  cleaned,  and  well  skimmed  while  boiling 

Pressed  Afe.,-ms  a  delightful  relish  for  tea  or  luncheon, 
Take  of  veal,  lamb,  or  beef,  or  mutton,  the  knucklc-pieccs,  with 
very  httle  fat  upon  them.  Put  into  cold  water  and  let  them 
bo.1  for  a  number  of  hours  until  the  meat  is  reduced  to  small 
bits.  Skim  out  the  bones,  and  chop  the  meat  very  fine ;  season 
to  taste.  This  should  have  been  boiled  down  to  such  consist^ 
cncy  that  when  cold  it  will  be  a  solid  jelly,  which  will  slice  like 
head-cheese.  This  is  very  delicate  in  the  spring  made  of  veal 
and  chicken;  an  old  fowl,  if  not  too  fat,  is  better  for  it  than  a 
young  one.  In  cold  weather  it  will  keep  perfectly  good  ten 
days.  , 

A  Dressing  for  Cold  Sliced  Meat.-Qr^^A^Ai  cup  vinegar  one 
teaspoon  salt,  one  teaspoon  sugar,  one  tablespoon  mustard,  one 
tablespoon  olive  oil ;  mix  well. 

Cake  Cream.-mc^  stale  cake  and  put  in  a  pudding-dish  in 
layers  with  preserves  or  with  stewed  raisins.  Pour  r  ^r  this 
half  a  cup  of  sweet  cream  well  sugared,  cover  the  top  u  ith  a 
layer  of  cake,  and  spread  on  this  a  frosting  as  for  cake;  put  in 
the  oven  for  a  few  minutes.     Serve  cold. 

Frosted  /77.//.-Take  peaches,  berries,  currants,  or  any  summer 
fruit,  and  stir  well  through  it  frosting,  prepared  as  for  cake  of 
whites  of  eggs  and  powdered  sugar;  spread  it  on  a  platter  and 
set  it  on  ice  until  sent  to  the  table. 

Cranberry  Cake.-Y.,,  in  layers,  first  cranberry  jelly  strained     ' 
and  smooth,  then  slices  of  stale  white  cake,  then  custard  made 
of  the  yolks  of  eggs,  then  cake,  then  cranberry,  then  cake,  then 
a  frosting  .mde  of  tl)e  whites  of  the  eggs.  Serve  cold  with  cream. 


\mt\ 


t 

1 
I. 

,  *    1 

*    1 

1- 
i 

i 

i, 

CHAPTER   XV. 

THE   UNITY   OF   THE    HOME. 

WiUT    AUNT    SOPHRONIA     THINKS    OF    FAMILY    ACCORD,     DISCORD 

AND   CONCORD. 

4)^  WISH  It  were  written  over  the  entrance  of  every  Home, 
^1       "A  house  divided  against  itself  cannot  stand."     If  the 
"iQco     ^°"^^  '^  *°  ^'-"  durable  and  prosperous,  there  must  be 
^      unity  between    its   members.     A  true  Home   is  not  a 
boarding-house  where  people  come  and  go,  arc  glad  or  sorry, 
prosperous  or  unfortunate,  just  as  it  happens,  for  themselves 
alone,  without  affecting  the  other  members  of   the  household. 
The  units,  which  make  up  the  home,  in  a  great  measure  stand  or 
fall  together :  the  prosperity  of  one  is  the  prosperity  of  all ;  the 
disgrace  of  one   is   the   disgrace   of  all.     I    have  .seen  homes 
where  it  was  assumed  by  the  husband  that  his  business  was 
entirely  his  own  business,  that  his  wife  or  children  were  entitled 
to  know  nothing  about  it ;   he  might  reach  profit  or  loss,  con- 
tract or  pay  debts,  and  it  was  no  concern  of  his  wife  or  children. 
The  wife,  proceeding  in  the  same  fashion,  spent  or  saved  as  she 
liked  in  her  dress,  housekeeping  and  in  rearing  her  children. 
The  children  made  their  own  plans,  friends,  engagements,  bar- 
gains.     The   servants    were   sedulously   kept   apart   from   any 
family  interests,  were  fi.xedly  shown    that  they  were  hirclinj.':; 
tvith  certain  work  to  do  for  certain  wages,  and  oftentimes  the 
work  was  shirked  or  slighted,  and  sometimes  the  wages  wet.- 
long  unpaid.     Such  a  household  is  a  rope  of  sand;  the  least 
krjch    of  disaster  breaks   it  asunder;    its   parts   fly  far  from 


. 


i 


THE    UNITY  OF   THE  HOME. 


3(51 


each  other  to  meet  no  more.  The  son  errs  and  is  bidden  never 
to  cross  again  the  parental  door;  the  daughter,  in  whom  h'ttlc 
personal  interest  has  been  taken,  contracts  a  marriage  which  her 
parents  disapprove,  and  is  ignored;  the  sisters  and  brothers  drift 
to  different  cities  and  neglect  to  correspond :  they  grow  in  time 
to  forget  each  other's  faces ;  the  parents  are  left  alone  in  a  love- 
less  age.  Here  has  been  a  Home  but  in  seeming;  it  was  but 
the  false  shadow  of  the  real  Home;  there  is  nothing  in  this: 
gathering  of  diverse  tastes  and  aims  to  project  itself  into  the 
future  world  as  having  in  itself  the  deathless  germ  of  immor- 
tality. 

When  by  two  young  people  a  household  is  established,  it 
should  be  clearly  understood  from  the  start  that  there  is  a  com- 
munity of  interest;  that  what  concerns  one  concerns  all;  that 
secrecies  are  disastrous.     The  man  who  keeps  all  his  business 
relations,  and  prospects,  and  undertakings,  to  himself,  not  only, 
by  keeping  his  wife  a  stranger  to  his  business,  loses  a  coun-^ 
sellor  whose  natural  keenness   of  wit  would  be  sharpened  by 
personal  interest  in  his  success,  a  counsellor  whose  oneness  of 
aim  with  his  would  be  unquestionable,  because  not  only  she 
loves  him  well,  but  with  him  she  must  stand  or  fall,  but  he 
risks  having  one  in  his  own  home  ignorantly  working  against 
him.     If  the  wife  is  '    darkness  as  to  her  husband's  affairs,  she 
may,  by  a  too  caul,  r.s  saving,  cause  his  business  prosperity 
and  stability  to  be  undervalued;  or  by  a  too  lavish  expenditure, 
when  he  is  in  straits,  she  embarrasses  him ;  or,  unconscious  of 
the  pressure  of  his  cares,  she  additionally  burdens  him  with 
small  anxieties  or  duties  which  she  would,  if  better  informed, 
assume   herself.      The   wife   who    concludes    that   the   health, 
morals,  dispositions  and  doings  of  the  far.'.ily  are  no  concern  of 
the  husband  and  father,  and  so  leaves  him  uninformed  of  what 
is  goinfr  on.  deprives  herself  of  aid.  of  the  advice  of  one  whose 
out-look  is  quite  as  wide  and  whose  real  in'  erest  is  as  deep  as 


862 


THE     COMI'LETE   HOME. 


her  own,  and  suddenly  the  poor  father  is  overwhelmed  by  some 
physical  or  moral  domestic  catastrophe  of  which  he  was  entirely 
unwarned.  People  go  on  in  families  each  in  a  divided  and 
separate  way,  heedless  that  what  God  has  bound  together  in  the 
Home,  man  cannot  really  put  asunder,  try  as  he  may;  and 
suddenly  in  some  great  shock  of  disaster  he  experiences  what 
is  thus  described  by  a  recent  French  writer:  "Then  this  poor 
wretch  knew  in  all  its  wide  extent  the  sentiment  of  family 
responsibility,  of  that  solidarity  which  causes  esteem  or  reproach 
to  descend  from  father  to  son,  or  rise  from  child  to  parent." 

Where  children  are  allowed  to  understand  and  take  an  interest 
in  family  affairs,  where  they  feel  that  they  have  their  partnership 
in  the  household,  then  ,they  will  be  early  enlisted  as  helpers ; 
their  judgment  will  be  strengthened  and  developed;  a  proper 
reticence  will  be  educated  into  them.  It  is  jhildren,  who  by 
secrecy  are  constantly  stimulated  to  pry  into  secrets,  who  become 
tattlers;  the  child  who  is  taken  into  honest  confidence  is  not  the 
blatant  gossip  to  publish  home  affairs,  but  is  the  staunch  home 
co-worker.  I  remember  in  that  charming  prose  epic  of  the 
French  Tclemaque,  the  young  hero  states  that  he  learned  to 
keep  his  own  counsel,  and  never  betray  another's  confidence,  by 
having  made  known  to  him  in  his  early  childhood  the  cares  and 
embarrassments  of  his  mother  Penelope.  By  knowing  the  dangers 
with  which  his  home  was  environed  he  became  thoughtful,  brave 
and  judicious.  Parents  excuse  themselves  from  taking  their 
children  as  interested  partners  in  home  affairs  on  the  plea  that 
they  will  betray  confidence  accidentally,  or  in  the  fervor  of 
friendship.  Pleading  this,  they  deprive  their  children  of  train- 
ing in  trustworthiness,  and  drive  them  to  fervid  friendships  with 
strangers  by  refusing  the  children  their  own  confidence.  An- 
other plea  is  that  these  affairs  do  not  concern  the  child.  This 
we  cannot  see:  the  child  in  its  physical  and  mental  conditions 
nuist  be  concerned  by  all  that  affects  the  prosperity  of  the  family 


THE   UNITY  OF  THE  HOME. 


m 


its  shelter,  dress,  food,  position,  means  of  education,  concern  it 
just  as  nearly  as  any  one.  Suppose  the  parents  explain  frankly 
to  their  sons  and  daughters  business  entanglements  which 
distress  them:  at  once  their  sympathies  are  enlisted  in  retrench- 
ments; they  submit  cheerfully  to  privations  at  which  they  might 
grumble  if  they  did  not  understand  the  needs  be:  'die  sons  earlier 
see  the  value  of  developing  their  energies  and  improving  their 
opportunities  that  they  may  be  their  father's  efficient  helpers. 
What  young  people,  if  told  by  their  parents  that  while  freely  and 
cheerfully  accorded  the  means  of  education,  yet  those  means 
\vere  obtained  by  a  struggle,  and  must  be  made  to  bring  their 
best  and  speediest  return,  so  that  younger  ones  could  have  their 
share  of  advantages,  would  not  be  by  far  more  diligent  and 
zealous  students?  Some  people  say  that  it  is  unkind  to  make 
young  folk  sharers  in  anxieties  and  responsibilities;  but  this  may 
be  God's  very  way  for  training  them  for  usefulness;  if  he  sends 
the  cares  and  anxieties  into  the  family,  it  probably  is  his  way; 
we  deprive  our  children  of  what  may  be  to  them  a  fountain 
of  strength,  a  reservoir  of  power,  a  ladder  to  ultimate  success. 
The  Scripture  says,  Blessed  is'  the  man  who  has  borne  the  yoke 
in  his  youth. 

Another  point  to  be  considered  in  this  community  of  interests 
in  a  family  is,  that  where  knowledge  of  all  business  interests  is 
confined  to  one — say  to  the  father  of  the  family — he  may  sud- 
denly die,  and  the  wife  and  children  be  utterly  at  a  loss  to  know 
how  their  affairs  stand,  what  they  should  do,  or  what  plans  are 
half  carried  out  for  them  to  fulfil.  If,  on  the  contrary,  the  father 
has  instructed  his  wife  and  children  as  to  his  business  and  his 
plans  for  the  future,  they,  instead  of  being  at  the  mercy  of 
strangers,  perhaps  of  sharpers,  can  arrange  for  themselves  on 
the  basis  of  a  complete  understanding  of  their  resources  and 
prospects;  the  sons  are  not  helpless  idlers,  but  understand  ho\l 
to  carry  out  their  father's  views. 


mi 

I 

I 


iQi 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


I  ';^'ii 


So  also  if  a  mother  has  made  her  daughters  her  companions 
and  true  yoke-fcllovvs  in  the  household,  they  know  her  plans, 
and  her  methods,  and  if  she  is  laid  aside  by  disease  or  taken 
away  by  death,  they  know  how  to  hold  the  helm  and  fulfil  her 
intentions. 

The  world  is  full  of  this  dangerous  division  of  interests  in 
the  family.     Men  sedulously  conroal  their  prospects  or  losses; 
their  wives  go  on  in  ways  that  once  were  safe,  unconscious  that 
now  these  ways  lie  along  the  crumbling  edge  of  ruin;  all  falls 
in  some  terrible  bankruptcy,  and  people  cry:  "Woman's  extrav- 
agance!"  where  they  should  cry:  "Man's  dangerous  secrecy!". 
God  in  the  beginning  proposed,  as  it  was  not  meet  for  man  to' 
be  alone,  to  make  a  helpmeet  for  him.     If  men  would  only  be 
ready  to  make  their  wives  helpmeets  by  confiding  to  them  their 
business,  consulting  them,  expecting  to  work  together  with  them 
for  private  and  public  interests,  then  not  only  would  Hist  living 
be  far  less  common,  but   the  lives  of  women  would   be  less 
anxious,  less  frivolous   and  more  useful,  and  commercial  dis- 
asters would  be  far  less  common.     Two  are  better  than   one, 
says  the  Scripture,  but  can  two  walk  together  unless  they  be 
agreed?      Who  more    likely  to    be   Argus-eyed   to    business 
dangers,  who  more  likely  to  be  resolute  and  courageous,  than 
the  woman  who  knows  not  only  her  own  comfort  and  happiness 
to  be  at  stake,  but  her  husband's  honor,  and  perhaps  life,  and 
her  children's  future? 

"Ah,"  said  a  great  criminal  recently,  "all  my  affairs  would 
have  gone  on  better,  and  this  terrible  denouement  would  never 
have  occurred,  if  I  had  told  my  wife  and  children  all  my  en- 
tanglements; they  would  have  saved  me  from  myself  I  could 
not  have  become  a  criminal  with  their  honest  eyes  fixed  upon 
me."  ^ 

I  found  lately  this  paragraph  in  a  paper: 

"  II  is  very  common  to  hear  the  remark  made  of  a  young  man 


THE    UNITY  OF  THE  HOMR. 


365 


that  he  is  so  industrious  and  so  economical  that  he  is  sure  to  be 
thrifty  and  prosperous.  And  this  may  be  very  true  of  him  so 
long  as  he  remains  single.  But  what  will  his  habitual  prudence 
avail  him  against  tlie  careless  waste  and  extravagance  of  an 
uncalculating,  unthinking  wife?  He  might  as  well  be  doomed 
to  spend  his  strength  and  life  in  attempting  to  catch  water  in  a 
sieve.  The  effort  would  be  hardly  less  certainly  in  vain.  Habits 
of  economy,  the  ways  to  turn  everything  in  the  household  affairs 
to  the  best  account— these  are  among  the  things  which  every 
mother  should  teach  her  daughters.  Without  such  instructions, 
those  who  are  poor  will  n^-er  become  rich,  while  those  who  are 
now  rich  may  become  po^. 

Now  this  is  all  very  true,  but  if  during  five  or  ten  years  the 
young  man  desires  his  wife  to  maintain  a  certain  style  of  living 
and  then  his  income  narrowing,  does  not  explain  matters  to  her, 
and  ask   her  to  retrench,   who  is  to  blame  for  tl|c  too  lavish 
expenditure?     Wives  are  as  ready  to  save  as  husbands  to  gain, 
if  they  only  arc  allowed  as  clearly  to  understand  a  "  needs  be." 
To  my  mind  this  concealment  in  domestic  life  is  criminal.     The 
marriage  partntrship  is  as  sacred  as  any  partnership ;  but  what 
kind  of  business  fealty  would  it  be,  to  take  a  partner,  and  con- 
ceal  from  him  a  mass  of  bad  debts,  risky  speculations  and  dan- 
gerous entanglements?     "With  all   my  worldly  goods  I  thee 
endow,"  .says  the  groom,  in  the  marriage-service.     Now,  if  these 
worldly  goods   are  at  present   nothing  al>  all   but  a  figure  of 
speech,  and  he  and  she  so  understand  it,  and  bravely  expect  to 
create  the  goods  by  their  joint  industry,  well  and  good;  but  it 
is  »ot  well  and  good,  when  the  worldly  goods  are  expressed  hy 
a  scries  of  debts  of  which  the  bride  has  been  told  nothing,  while 
she  must   feel  their  burden.     Unhappy  the  new-made  house- 
hold which  starts  having,  as  the  French  say,  "  its  debts  for  its 
savings." 

Probably  no  right-minded  woman  ever  without  indignation 


III 


m-\ 


806 


THE  COMPLErE  I/OX'E. 


?lir: 


w% 


read  In  "Stepping  Heavenward  "  the  atrocious  conduct,of  the 
Doctor,  who  amiably  introduces  into  his  family  two  perpetual 
inmates,  without  ever  consulting  his  wife;   assumes  debts  for 
her  to  help  carry;  and  when  she  lias  staggered  on  year  after 
year,  burdened  tliercby.  forgets  to  tell  her  that  they  are  paid 
until  six  months  after  the  happy  event!     One  would  say  that 
such  a  man  was  very  far  from  the  divine  idea  of  the  home, 
and  making  very  poor  progress  in  the  Heavenward  Way.     Sup- 
pose a  wife  had  thus  invited  guests,  assumed  debts,  and  forgot- 
ten to  state  when  the  scrimping  and  toiling  to  carry  the  burden 
might  end?     But  is  not  this  a  partnership  of  equal  interests? 
Shall  not  these  two  stand  or  fall  together?     Is  not  the  loss  or 
prosperity  of  one  the  loss  or  prosperity  of  both? 

But  I  am  far  from  thinking  that  these  selfish  deceits  and  with- 
holdings are  all  on  the  masculine  side  of  the  question.     I  once 
knew  a  youyg  man  who  was  engaged  to  a  girl  who  had  ten 
thousand   dollars.     She.    in    apparently   the   frankest    manner, 
agreed  that  he  should  make  arrangements  to  invest  this  in  a' 
particular  way  for  their  mutual  advantage,  and  as  soon  as  they 
were  married  the  money  was  to  be  forthcoming.     The  trustful 
youth  accordingly  entered  into  business  engagements  which  he 
could  not  cancel.     The  marriage  over,  the  bride's  uncle  paid  her 
Ihe  ten  thousand;  but  before  one  penny  of  it  could  be  used  as 
proposed,  seven  thousami  dollars  were  called  for  to  pay  the  lady's 
debts-debts  of  foolish  extravagance,  for  lace,  jewelry,  flowers, 
confections,  mantua-makers  and  similar  demands  ;  thus  the  poor 
husband,  miserably  entangled   by  In's  business  arrangements, 
strugg.ed  in  debt  for  ten  years,  until  his  health  was  nearly 
ruined,  and  his  youth  was  quite  h)st     I  remember  that  a  year 
or  two  ago,  Miriam  and  I  .si)eni  a  week  in  the  city  at  the  board- 
ing-house of  an   old   acquaintance,     l-ntering   lier   room   one 
day.,  and  seeing  a  largo  nuir.bcr  of  pared;!  on  the  bed,  Miiiani 
laid: 


THE    UNITY   OF   THE  HOME. 


367 


"Oh,  Mrs.  Graham,  you  have  been  out  shopping?" 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Graham,"  "those  belong  to  INIrs.  Lester. 
They  are  to  he  here  until  Mr.  Lester  has  gone  out ;  you  know 
ladies  do  not  always  care  to  have  their  husbands  know  every 
little  thing  that  they  may  purchase." 

Miriam  looked  confounded ;  a  flush  of  indignation  rose  over 
her  face.  "  No,"  she  said,  clearly,  "  I  do  not  know  anj'  such 
thing!  I  am  sure  I  should  not  stoop  to  conceal  anything 
which  I  bought  or  did  ;  and  if  I  thought  my  husband  would 
in  the  least  question  the  propriety  of  a  purchase,  I  would  not 
make  it." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  our  hostess,  a  little  embarrassed,  "you  and 
Mr.  Rogers  are  different  from  the  most  of  people." 

"  Indeed,  I  hope  not  in  this  particular,"  said  Miriam. 

It  is  true  that  I  have  not  myself  had  the  experience  of 
married  life,  but  I  have  studied  married  life  closely  in  many 
homes,  and  I  think  I  have  good  grounds  for  certain  opinions 
which  I  have  formed  concerning  it.  The  reference  just  made  to 
a  popular  book,  and  to  the  Doctor  bringing  home  two  permanent 
members  for  the  family,  calls  to  my  mind  one  point  wliere  unity 
in  homes  is  often  disastrously  lackmg :  I  mean  in  reference  to 
relations  by  marriage.  Why  are  certain  women  another  woman's 
natural  enemies,  merely  because  the  words  "  in-law  *  are  added 
to  the  terms  sister  and  mother  ?  I  have  heard  enough  of  the 
remark  that  one  marries  a  man  or  a  woman,  but  ;/."/  their  family. 
Now  marriage  is  not  an  example  in  subtraction  but  in  addition. 
It  is  not  to  destroy  past  ties  and  natural  affections,  but  to  add 
lew  ties  and  new  affections.  That  a  man  takes  a  wife  is  not  a 
reason  for  dissevering  him  from  the  sister  who  is  of  his  own 
blood,  who  was  his  childhood's  companion,  pet  or  mentor. 
Marriage  is  not  a  Lethe  in  which  are  to  be  lost  the  memory  of 
childhood,  gratitude  for  past  favors,  and  the  fifth  commandment 
True,  the  Bible  does  say  that  a  man  is  to  leave  father  and 


if. 


368 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


!  la 


m  the    and  cleave  to  his  wife,  though  in  this  age  it  i.  usually 
he  w,fe  who  .required  to  do  the'Ieaving,  often.not  seeing  he 
car  y  ho..e  and  fnends  for  a  decade.     The  husband  and  wife  are 
declared  to  be  one  flesh;  but  the  making  of  the  new  tie  does 
not  sunder  the  old:  it  is  not  that,  loving  one  more,  we  are  to 
love  others  less.     The  very  fact  that  husband  and  wife  become 
one  flesh  should  serve  to  draw  them  in  tender  and  forbearing 
un.ty  to  the  close  kin  of  the  one  to  whom  they  are  so  nea. 
We  must  learn  to  put  ourselves  in  other  peoples  places      As 
we  measure  to  others  shall  inevitably  be  measured  to  us      Time 
.s  a  s,ngularly  exact  avenger-the  true  avenger  of  blood,  ever 
w.th  fleet  foot  and  uplifted  arn,  following  the  evil-doer  with  his 
exactions,  eye  for  eye.  tooth  for  tooth,  life  for  life.     Think  tl«.n 
-ou.er.  so  jealous,  so  easily  offended,  so  hardly  to  be  won  by' 
your  mo  her-m-law.  this  babe  on  your  knee  shall  take  a  wife  and 
how  would  ,.. .  like  to  be  viewed  as  a  mother-in-law  P     Wou  d 
>^u  have  your  cares,  your  toils,  your  long  devotion  ignored 
We  have  no  nght  to  expect  the  fan.ilies  into  which  we  marry  to 
be  so  much  better  than  our  own  that  they  have  no  faults      Tl  I 
days  are  gone  by  when  the  sons  of  God  wedded  with  the'da  Jgh 
e  s  of  men.      Doubtless  there  wil,  be  more  points  of  difUr  n^ 
between  us  and  them  than  between  us  inr!  n,  r     .         "''' 

4.^  1  ,-,•  "^iwi.i.n  us  and  our  own  fam    es  •  but 

to  be  unhke  ourselves  is  not  ncccssnriK.  n      •  t    ,       ''""'^ 

••c  1  "t-ccssarily  a  crime.     I  th  nk  them 

-,„B   i4crfcc.,o„  „„l:,:*"='.7-'7  ■■'  --"''«'  »« 

dauglucr,  perfect   cr  /    I  "'''   '"   '"  <"™ 

pcrfc       and    ft         """^  "''""'  •^"'""'''  ""-   "  »'>=  "-e 

L.,::: :; :: ::;  :f  --  ^.'"-■™»  ^"  c„h„,  i,,,,.. 

because  fhc^r  I      H        r  ■■'  """"'  """"  "<"  ^'  J'^'-'lo'is 

brail,,.;.    ■^—'■'•"  "M- marry.  i„  |„ve  husband  better  than 
brother;  nor  must  the  wife  desire  her  husband  to  Iov=  hi,  sisters 


THE   UNITY  OF  THE  HOME. 


3G9 


less  than  before,  for  when  her  own  toddling  boy  .';nd  girl  are 
grown,  will  she  desire  the  love-bands  between  them  to  be  rudely 
broken  ?  Why  must  a  young  man  be  instructed  that  his 
mother-in-law  is  his  natural  enemy  ?  If  she  loves  his  wife,  and 
IS  solicitous  for  her  welfare,  she  loves  and  guards  what  is  his 
dearest  treasure,  and  thus  has  a  claim  to  his  gratitude,  as  in  that 
wife's  well-being  is  freighteu  the  happiness  of  his  home.  If 
there  are  some  of  her  ways  which  are  not  pleasing  to  him,  very 
likely  that  account  is  squared  without  any  effort  of  his  own  by 
some  of  his  ways  being  unpleasant  to  her.  Has  she  not  loved 
and  nourished  the  being  dearest  to  him  ?  If  the  daughter  is 
charming,  does  she  not  probably  owe  it  to  her  mother  ?  Must 
not  that  be  a  praiseworthy  woman  who  has  raised  up  for  him  so 
good  a  wife?  If  he  is  a  true  husband,  does  he  not  owe  his  wife's 
filial  love  some  sympathy  ?  Why  must  a  wife's  mother  and  a 
husband's  mother  be  foes  ?  Are  not  their  interests  centred  in 
one  household  ?  Has  not  each  made  a  sacrifice  for  the  other's 
child  ?  Will  there  not  be  a  line  of  grandchildren  in  whom  they 
wHl  be  mutually  interested? 

I  have  seen  households  where  the  mother  was  carping  at  the 
father's  relatives  and  the  father  was  condemning  the  mother's 
kindred,  stirring  up  in  the  breasts  of  the  children  distrust  and 
hatred  of  those  who  were  equally  their  kin ;  forgetting  that  these 
to  whom  they  made  the  children  hostile  were  those  whom  God 
had  bound  to  them  by  blood ;  that  their  strife  would  introduce 
an  element  of  lovelessness  into  their  own  homes ;  that  they  were 
weakening  the  bonds  that  tied  their  own  children  each  to  each. 
I  never  yet  knew  a  case  where,  by  coldness,^ quarrelling,  censo- 
riousness,  the  parents  lessened  their  children's  love  for  relatives 
on  either  or  both  sides  of  the  house,  that  the  evil  did  not 
rebound  by  having  the  children  grow  up  loveless  between  them- 
selves, jealous,  captious,  assigning  evil  intentions  to  trifling  acts, 

and  ending  by  drifting  widely  apart.     The  old  Arab  proverb 
24 


'  *  ", 


|;ri 


11. 


■Ml 


f  11 


mK 


M-) 


TIT 


UiiL: 


o(i 


77/E    COMPLEIE   HOME. 


says,  "  Curses,  like  chickens,  go  home  to  roost,"  aad  tlie  curse 
of  family  dissensions  never  fails  to  get  home  to  roost.     Parents 
should  think  of  this  when  they  arc  carping  at  every  little  oddity 
and  folly  in  their  relations  by  marriage,  so  their  children  will 
carp  at  and  vex  each  other.     Suppose,  my  good  young  woman, 
that  your  mother-in-law  finds  some  fault  with  your  style  of  doing 
things.     Perhaps  you  are  to  blame  in  having  withdrawn  confi- 
dence from  her,  and  not  explained  tuliy  you  did  thus ;  or,  as  she 
lias  twice  as  long  experience  as  you,  possibly  her  way  is  better 
than  yours,  so  you  will  do  well  to  try  it ;  or,  granted  that  she  is 
fretful  and  exacting,  behold  the  root  of  the  same  in  her  passion- 
ate mothcr-'oving  of  your  husband.     Did  you  forget  that  the  tie 
between  him  and  her  is  just  as  close  as  between  you  and  the 
babe  you  are  nursing  at  your  breast,  and  even  stronger,  because 
it  has  had  years  in  which  it  was  annealed  in  love  and  care  and' 
stfvice?     You,  busy  young  head  of  a  family,  are  angry,  because 
your  wife's  mother  criticised  your  business  or  family  doings? 
What  impelled  her,  but  desire  for  your  family  prosperity  and 
happiness,  and  the  future  fortune  of  your  children? 

It  is  dangerous  and  disadvantageous,  people  say,  for  families 
to  live  together:  let  each  household  be  alone.  Doubtless  the 
rule  is  good,  but  Providence  sometimes  interferes  with  it.  It 
would  be  well  if  every  man  could  provide  for  his  own,  and  if  all 
ate  the  bread  which  they  earned  ;  but  many  cannot  do  this,  and 
the  poor  we  have  always  with  us,  and  by  this  alteration  of  the 
normal  order  of  earning  and  providing,  we  may  exercise  the 
grace  of  Christian  charity.  Thus,  when  it  is  needful  in  God's 
providential  arrangings  for  us,  that  families  should  live  together 
— that  the  part  of  one  family  should  find  refuge  in  another — this 
may  be  a  means  of  developing  new  graces  in  ourselves  and 
our  children.  Therefore,  people  should  not  complain,  and  look 
on  it  as  a  great  evil,  that  aged,  pnnr,  infirm  or  homeless  relatives 
must  be  received  into  their  families ;  but  rather  feel  thankful 


THE   UXITY  OF  THE  HOME. 


371 


that  they  may  repay  past  debts  of  love  and  tenderness.  The 
Apostle  John  doubtless  received  into  his  house,  as  a  great 
blessing  and  favor,  the  mother  of  our  Lord;  and  Christ  himself 
just  as  surely  sends  now  his  servants  as  inmates  of  other  homes, 
as  then  he  sent  Mary  to  John.  What  should  be  more  grateful 
to  the  feelings  of  every  true  heart  than  to  be  able  to  establish 
in  one's  home,  and  wait  upon  with  affection  and  respect,  an 
aged  parent?  What  finer  opportunity  could  offer  of  teaching 
to  children  filial  piety,  respect  for  the  aged,  self-control  and 
unselfishness,  besides  laying  up  a  store  of  regard  and  attention 
to  be  enjoyed  in  our  own  old  age,  for  as  wc  sow  we  shall  reap. 
I  remember  a  very  pretty  fragment  on  this  subject  which  runs 
thus: 

"  Our  mother,  who  now  lies  in  death  before  us,  was  a  stranfrer 
to  me,  as  are  all  of  these  her  descendants.  All  I  know  of  her 
is  what  her  son  has  told  me  to-day:  that  she  was  brought  to  this 
town  from  afar,  sixty-nine  years  ago,  a  happy  bride;  that  here  she 
has  passed  most  of  her  life,  toiling,  as  only  mothers  ever  have 
strength  to  toil,  until  she  has  reared  a  large  family  of  sons  and 
daughters ;  that  she  left  her  home  here,  clad  in  the  weeds  of 
widowhood,  to  dwell  among  her  children,  till  health  and  strength 
left  her  God  forbid  that  conscience  should  accuse  any  of  you 
of  ingratitude  or  murmuring  on  account  of  the  care  she  has  been 
to  you  of  late.  When  you  go  back  to  your  homes,  be  careful 
of  your  example  before  your  own  children;  for  the  fruit  of  your 
own  doing  you  will  surely  reap  from  them  when  you  yourselves 
totter  on  the  brink  of  the  grave.  I  entreat  you  as  a  friend,  as 
one  who  has  himself  entered  the  evening  of  life,  that  you  may 
never  say  in  the  presence  of  your  families  nor  of  heaven:  'Our 
mother  has  outlived  her  usefulness;  she  was  a  burden  to  us.' 
Never,  never!  A  mother  can  never  live  so  long  as  that!  No; 
when  she  can  no  longer  labor  for  her  children,  nor  yet  care  for 
herself,  she  can  fall  like  a  precious  weight  on  their  bosoms,  :\ni 


S72 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


w 


call  forth  by  her  helplessness  all  the  noble,  generous  feelings  ol 
their  hearts." 

There  are  no  more  beautiful  and  more  richly  repaying  les. 
sons  to  be  taught  our  children  than  those  contained  in  the 
Scripture :  to  rise  up  before  the  aged,  and  to  honor  the  face  of 
old  men,  and  to  see  in  the  hoary  head  a  crown  of  glory.  Life 
with  all  its  burdens  and  its  bitterness  lies  behind  the  old,  and 
we  should  make  their  age  a  time  of  peace.  There  is  but  a 
short  space  left  them  wherein  we  can  show  gratitude,  tender, 
ness,  and  that  sympathy  for  infirmity  which  becomes  all  of  us 
who  are  moving  on  toward  like  age  and  infirmity. 

Mrs.  Winton's  aged  and  paralyzed  mother  lived  with  her  for 
several  years— indeed,  until  her   death.     Being  quite  helpless 
Mrs.  Winton  fed  her.     One  day  while  she  was  thus  giving  her 
her  dinner  I  was  there,  and  being  a  little  tired  and  nervous,  Mrs. 
Winton  spilled  some  of  the  beef-tea.      I  said  to  her,   with  a 
smile :  "  How  much  more  skilfully  she  fed  you  when  you  were 
little !  "     Mrs.  Winton  has  since  told  me  that  those  words  never 
left  her;   that  during  wakeful   nights,  and   days  of  ceaseless 
watching,   during  the   feeding,  bathing  and   dressing  needful, 
came  to  her  the  constant  thought,  "How  skilfully  and  tenderly 
she  did  this  for  you  when  you  were  little!"     She  prized  and 
taught  her  children  to  prize  this  opportunity  of  ministering,  not 
only  to  a  revered  and  beloved  parent,  but  to  a  saint  of  God  on 
the  verge  of  paradise. 

I  have  often  heard  people  speak  as  if  where  there  was  a 
mingling  of  households,  and  of  diverse  elements  in  a  family, 
there  must  be  discord  and  jarring.  This  is  a  dangerous  feeling, 
for  where  we  expect  discord  we  are  likely  to  have  discord.  I 
was  myself  a  member  of  a  large  family.  My  mother,  a 
widow  with  children,  married  a  widower  with  children ;  children 
were  also  born  to  this  second  marriage;  my  mother's  mother 
Wid  my  step-father's  sister  also  belonged  to  the  family  circle;  but 


THE   UNITY  OF  THE  HOME. 


373 


in  all  this  large  assemblage  of  different  elements  there  was  no 
discord  nor  jarring.  We  were  taught  to  seek  for  the  virtues 
and  not  the  failings  of  those  about  us;  to  be  grateful  for  favors, 
and  ready  to  grant  them ;  to  put  ourselves  in  other  people's 
places ;  to  respect  other  people's  rights ;  to  feel  honored  by 
opportunities  of  waiting  on  the  old  and  helpless.  I  am  sure  I 
hardly  knew  whether  the  full  brothers  and  sisters,  or  the  half 
sisters,  or  those  who  were  such  only  in  name,  had  the  higher 
share  in  my  regard;  and  this  experience  has  shown  me  that 
family  unity  can  be  attained  anywhere  and  in  any  circum- 
stances, if  people  will  only  unselfishly  resolve  to  have  it. 

A  dear  friend  of  mine,  when  almost  in  middle  life,  married  a 
Uvidower  with  a  family  of  half-grown  children,  with  whom  the 
first  wife's  mother  was  living.  The  family  not  only  recognized 
their  father's  right  to  choose  a  wife  for  himself,  but  were 
rejoiced  that  his  happiness  was  to  be  added  to  in  the  choice  of 
a  lady,  in  age,  education,  position  and  piety,  so  well  fitted  to 
grace  his  home.  The  wedding  over,  the  children  with  simple 
sincerity  welcomed  the  bride  to  a  mother's  place  in  their  hearts 
and  home,  and  the  aged  grandmother  folded  her  in  her  arms 
as  a  true  daughter.  The  record  of  the  years  of  this  family  life 
was  thus  told  by  the  second  mother :  "  No  own  children  could 
ever  have  been  dearer  or  more  loving  to  a  parent  than  these 
were  to  me,  and  it  was  a  true  blessing  from  heaven  to  live  in 
the  house  with  that  dear  old  lady.  It  seemed  when  she  died 
that  I  could  not  live  without  her." 

From  such  instances  we  see  that  unity  docs  not  rise  from 
nearness  of  relationship,  nor  from  smallness  of  families,  but  from 
A  right  direction  of  the  heart.  As  quarrelsome  families  as  I 
ever  saw  were  small  families,  where  none  but  parents  and  one 
set  of  children  lived.  If  parents  show  partiality  among  their 
children — if  they  always  give  up  to  the  one  who  makes  the 
loudest  noise  or  tells  the  most  angry  tales — if  they  do  not  cul- 


;n  L 


':  '  m 


374 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


tivate  strict  justice  and  loving-kindness  among  their  children— 
if  the  motlier  is  always  showing  up  the  faults  of  the  father's 
relations,  and  the  father  devotes  himself  to  complaining  of  the 
mother's  relatives,  while  the  kindred  on  both  sides  strive  to 
make  the  children  their  partisans,  no  matter  how  small  the 
family  may  be,  it  will  be  large  enough  for  disunion;  as  says  the 
Scripture,  they  will  be  divided  two  against  three,  and  three 
against  two. 

I  think  the  three  classes  of  relations  most  abused  have  beeq 
mothers-in-law,  maiden  aunts  and  step-mothers.     If  all  maiden 
.lunts  fared  as  well  as  I  have,  they  would  have  very  little  of 
which  to  complain,  for  I  have  yet  to  receive  an  unpleasant  act, 
word  or  look  from  my  large  family  of  relations.     Often  because' 
a  person  is  a  maiden  aunt  she  is  therefore  supposed  to  be  a 
legitimate  subject  of  sneers   or   censure,  whereas  her  position 
ought  to  make  her  a  public  benefactor.     If  she  bestows  advice, 
she  is  old-fashioned,  too  particular  and  censorious.     If  she  gives 
no  advice,  but  drifts  with  the  present  current  of  affairs,  tlien  she 
is  foolish,  giddy,  trying  to  be  girlish.     VVhittier  describes  the 
maiden  aunt  as  she  might  and  should  be  anywhere,  and  as  I 
have  no  doubt  she  always  would  be  if  properly  received : 

"  Who  lonely,  homeless,  none  the  less 
Fo...icl  peace  in  love's  unselfishness, 
And  welcomed  wlieiesoe'er  she  went. 
A  calm  and  gracious  element, 
Whose  presence  seemed  the  sweet  income 
And  womanly  atmosphere  of  home." 

However,  maiden  aunts  are  generally  independent.  If  they 
have  no  private  means  they  are  able  to  take  care  of  themselves, 
and,  if  needful,  they  can  make  their  own  place  in  the  world 
With  the  step-mother  it  is  different;  once  married,  she  must 
abide  in  the  state  wherein  she  finds  herself,  even  though  a 
meddlesome  neighborhood  excite  against  her  the  children's 
hearts  which  she  desires  to  win,  and  though  relatives  on  both 


THE   UXITY  OF   THE   HOME. 


375 


must 


sides  of  the  house  league  against  her,  as  if  in  virtue  of  hor 
arduous  position  she  were  the  common  enemy.  Probably, 
there  are  very  foolish,  weak,  harsh  or  indifferent  step-mothers, 
because  there  are  foolish,  weak,  harsh  and  indifferent  own 
mothers.  If  there  is  a  selfish  or  silly  streak  in  the  nature,  it  is 
likely  to  come  out  either  in  the  own  mother  or  the  step-mother, 
but  not  as  I  can  see  more  in  one  than  in  the  other.  The  own 
mother  may  feel  more  passion  of  love,  the  step-mother  more 
the  grave  bonds  of  duty,  but  whether  the  spring  is  the  one 
emotion  or  the  other,  the  result  is  an  honest  seeking  of  the 
best  good  of  the  family. 

It  is  taken  as  a  popular  statement  of  fact,  usually  given  in  a 
martyr-like  tone,  "  Well,  you  know,  there  is  a  great  difference 
between  own  mothers  and  step-mothers."     Yes,  I  do  know  that 
there  is,  and  sometimes  the  difference  is  in  favor  of  the  step- 
mother.    I  have  seen  a  good  many  step-mothers,  and  I  never 
yet  saw  one  who  was  not  doing  the  very  best  that  was  possible 
for  her  husband  and  his  family.     The  person  of  all  that  I  knew 
who  talked  the  loudest  against  step-mothers,  and  the  miseries 
which  she  had  suffered  from  one,  when  pressed  to  the  point, 
could  lay  no  fault  to  the  unhappy  woman's  charge,  except  that 
she  had  married  her  father.     I  said  to  her:  "Well,  if  that  was  a 
crime,  your  own  mother  was  guilty  of  the  same.     To  hear  you 
arraign  step-mothers  one  would  think  you  had  been  cruelly  used, 
but  that  is  impossible,  since  you  were  eighteen  years  old  and 
largely  and  powerfully  made,  before  you  had  any  step-mother. 
I  fancy,  if  one  heard  her  side  of  the  story,  we  should  learn 
something  of  the  painful  prejudice  which  exists  in  the  minds 
of  step-daughters."     How   absurd    this    family  quarrelling   is! 
How  cruel  to  greet  a  woman's  entrance  to  a  new  home  with  a 
bitter  feeling,  and  acting  as  if  her  position  were  usurped  and  her 
nuptials  only  half  loga! ! 
A  cousin  of  mine,  a  good  girl  too,  was  deeply  aggrieved  that 


376 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


}       ! 


■ill 


yii 


her  father  took  a  second  wife— a  lady  suitable  to  him  in  every 
way.  I  said  to  her :  "  Rhoda,  you  expected  to  be  married,  your 
brother  is  in  California,  your  father  is  of  a  long-lived  race :  why 
should  the  poor  man  face  i    s  age  alone?" 

Rhoda  could  give  no  suitable  reason  for  her  pique,  but  she 
would  speak  of  the  new  wife  as  "  my  father's  companion,"  until 
my  patience  was  exhausted,  and  I  spoke  out :  "  If  you  don't 
choose  to  say  '  mother,'  nc  one  will  complain,  though  in  declin- 
ing the  word  you  lack  a  very  attractive  grace ;  but  I  am  quite 
tired  of  '  my  father's  cotttpanion'  as  if  she  were  a  hired  servant, 
or  living  in  illegal  bonds.  She  is  your  father's  7vi/e  as  much 
as  your  own  mother  was,  and  you  insult  all  three,  father,  mother, 
and  step-mother,  by  this  ridiculous  phrase." 

Rhoda  did  not  use  the  objectionable  term  any  more,  but  she 
gradually  stopped  corresponding  with  me.  I  suppose  she  did 
not  like  my  speaking  my  thoughts  so  clearly,  but  it  is  a  great 
comfort  frankly  to  free  one's  mind. 

How  often  have  I  seen  step  mothers  who  were  the  very  mak- 
ing of  their  families,  bringing  the  children  morally,  mentally  and 
socially  to  something  better  than  had  ever  been  expected  for 
them.  And  this  is  heroic,  when  we  consider  against  what 
difficulties  and  prejudices  they  have  often  to  struggle.  The 
restrictions  and  reproofs  which  would  be  cited  as  a  mark  of  an 
own  mother's  judiciousness  are  called  tyranny  in  a  step-mother. 
I  visited  once  the  children  of  an  early  friend  and  schoolmate. 
This  lady,  dying  suddenly,  left  a  large  family,  which  at  the  end 
of  a  year  passed  into  the  hands  of  a  step-mother  Sorne  six  or 
eight  years  after  this  marria-c  I  visited  the  family.  7':  ■  ;xel- 
lent  judgment,  principle  and  management  of  this  second  mother 
left  nothing  to  be  desired.  Her  life  had  been  one  of  devotion 
to  her  step-children,  which  found'  itself  well  repaid  in  their 
remarkable  advancement  in  life.  And  yet,  surrounded  by 
-.  ■;-'(fi,   luifi;ries    and    gratifications    purchased    by  the  step- 


THE   UNITY  OF  THE  HOME. 


377 


mother's  money  and  al  'lities,  one  of  the  daughters  said  to  mc, 
with  a  sigh:  "And  yet,  of  course,  there  is  so  much  to  put  up 
with,  for  you  know  a  step-mother  is  different  from  an  own 
mother." 

"  Yes,"  I  rephed,  "  and  sometimes  the  difference  is  in  the 
favor  of  the  step-mother.  Your  own  mother  was  a  charming 
person,  of  high  family  and  much  genius.  However,  she  married 
far  too  young — before  het  education  was  completed,  and  she  was 
always  a  martyr  to  ill  health.  Her  inexperience  and  feebleness 
of  constitution,  together  with  an  unusually  yielding  disposition, 
rendered  her  quite  unable  to  exercise  that  decision,  that  activity 
and  ability  which  your  father's  business  entanglements  and 
large  family  demanded.  She  could  not  have  done  for  th  .  family 
what  her  successor  has  done.  I  know  that  your  stcp-niother's 
achievements  for  you  have  surpassed  your  own  mother  -  best 
dreams,  and  that  she  herself  would  have  asked  nothing  setter 
than  to  see  you  in  the  hands  of  such  a  wise,  kind  and  capable 
guardian." 

I  wish  the  public  would  come  to  see  that  this  prejudice 
against  step-mothers  is  weak,  foolish  and  unfounded,  unworthy 
of  an  age  of  Christian  common-sense.  People  should  stand  or 
fall,  be  condemned  or  praised,  on  their  own  proved  merits  or 
demerits,  not  upon  the  strength  of  a  name. 

I  have  talked  a  great  deal  with  my  nieces  on  the  need  of 
Unity  in  the  Home.  Disunion  in  families  is  a  sort  of  lineal 
inheritance;  it  runs  down  from  gt..cration  to  generation,  lik 
the  chin  of  the  house  of  Hapsburg.  We  should  try  to  make 
our  homes  calm  and  united,  that  Unity  may  bless  the  homes 
of  our  descendants  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation.  How 
shall  this  Unity  be  encouraged  ?  By  example  ;  by  precept;  by 
practice.  Children  should  see  that  their  parents  show  this 
lovinpness  and  forbearance  to  each  other,  and  to  tht-ir  rrl,itive;\ 
in  very  virtue  of  the  tie  of  relationship.     They  should  be  taught 


373 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


that  the  tie  of  brother  or  sister  gives  a  claim  upon  their  paticnc, 
and  kindness,  and  not  liberty  to  be  captious  and  exacting.    Very 
small  children  can  be  taught  to  be  tender  and  loving' in  their 
ways  to  each  other,  and  to  recognize  the  claim  of  little  brother 
or  sister.     Children  should  not  be  allowed  to  quarrel,  to  strike, 
or  tattle.     Very  little  children  often  sliow  their  fallen  disposi 
tions,  .-nd  will  tell  tales,  or  even  make  up  tales  to  get  anothct 
child  into  trouble.     People  sometimes  think  a  child  will  have 
sense  to  defend   itself  from  a  false  accusation,  but  this  is  not 
always  the  case;  some  children  think  slowly,  are  easily  alarmed, 
and  have  a  certain  reticence  in  rebutting  char-es,  so  that  often 
the  loudest  and  seemingly  most  innocent  complainant  is  the  real 
culprit  in  a  household.     It  is  dangerous  for  parents  to  be  taking 
sides  between  their  children,  for  thus  doing  they  leave  thorns 
of  injustice  to  rankle,  and  thus  weaken  the  bonds  of  love.    The 
danger  of  allowing  children  to  go  on  quarrelling,  and  squabble 
out  their  difficulties,  is  still  greater:  for  the  longer  that  they 
quarrel  the  frailer  become  the  love  tics  between  them.    The  best 
way  is  to  condemn  the  quarrel  as  a  thing  evil  in  itself;  to  exalt 
the  beauty  of  self-sacrifice  and  forgiveness,  and  to  change  the 
current  of  the  combatants'  thoughts  and  feelings  by  some  new 
occupation  or  some  pleasure. 

I  was  at  Miriam's  once  when  her  three  children  seemed  in  a 
very  uncomfortable  frame  of  mind,  and  in  a  loud  dispute  and 
accusation  ran  to  their  mother. 

"Dear  me,"  said  Miriam,  "you  all  seem  to  be  right,  and  all 
to  be  wrong,  and  you  certainly  are  very  hot  and  tired,  and  have 
played  too  long.  Run,  put  away  your  hats  and  wash  your  faces, 
and  come  and  see  what  a  nice  thing  I  have  for  each  of  you." 

In  their  wonder  over  the  "  nice  thing  "  the  squabble  ended, 
they  returned  in  peace,  and  Miriam  gave  Dora  three  fine  sugar- 
plums to  distribute.  These  eaten  amicably,  she  said :  "  Now 
you  must  go  to  work  ; "  and  set  Dora  to  hemming  a  towel,  Bob 


THE    UNITY  OF   THE   HOME. 


379 


to  ripping  an  old  waist,  and  little  Harold  to  cleaning  up  the  shoe 
closet.  We  heard  no  more  of  the  fray  which,  in  charges  oi 
"  names,"  "  stories,"  "  faces  "  and  "  blows,"  had  seemed  likely  to 
be  a  serious  affair. 

"  So, "  I  said,  laughing,  to  Miriam,  "  they  get  candy  for  quar- 
relling ! " 

"  Anything  is  better  than  a  long  quarrel,  temptation  to  false 
statements,  and  probable  injustice  in  settlement.  They  seldom 
quarrel,  for  it  always  stops  the  play  for  the  time  being,  though  I 
try  to  stop  it  as  agreeably  as  possible." 

Cousin  Ann  has  always  been  particular  to  foster  affection  in 
her  family.  She  was  talking  to  me  of  this  lately,  and  she  said  : 
"There  is  nothing  which  more  promotes  unity  in  the  family 
than  the  keeping  of  little  family  festivals.  I  always  kept  all  the 
birthdays.  We  looked  forward  to  the  birthday  keeping.  The 
children  prepared  their  little  gifts;  I  made  the  birthday  cake, 
which  the  hero  of  the  occasion  cut  and  distributed.  Sometimes 
we  kept  the  festival  at  home,  sometimes  we  went  or.  a  picnic  or 
a  trip  to  town.  The  one  whose  birthday  it  was  chose,  and  the 
choice  must  be  for  a  treat  in  which  all  the  family  could  share. 
We  sometimes  invited  strangers,  and  sometimes  kept  the  festival 
by  ourselves,  for  I  did  not  wish  my  children  to  feel  that  they 
could  not  be  happy  within  the  circle  of  their  own  family.  Ihit 
we  recognized  the  social  instinct  as  a  part  of  our  nature  con- 
ferred by  God  for  wise  ends,  and  we  did  not  cry  out  against  a 
desire  for  other  companions  and  friends  than  those  of  our  own 
fireside  as  if  it  were  a  crime.  Now  that  my  three  elder  children 
are  married  and  away  from  home,  we  keep  their  birthdays  still 
as  a  family-gathering,  and  they  come  home  with  their  house- 
holds, as  they  are  settled  near  me.  If  they  were  far  away  I 
sliould  send  them  gifts  and  greetings,  for  I  never  want  the  ties 
between  us  to  weaken  so  long  as  we  all  shall  live.  As  we  kept 
the  children's  birthdays,  so  Reuben's  and  mine  were  kept ;  and 


■M 


T( 


380 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


I 


!•  1i 


aatr  n%  J 


THUE 


If 


i::n 


every  such  occasion,  with  its  good-will,  good  wishes  and  little 
offerings,  served  to  draw  us  closer  to  each  other.      We  also 
kept  the  yearly  holidays  togetlier,  in  a  way  to  please  all.    Christ- 
mas was  looked  forward  to.     The  children  saved  their  money, 
and  taxed  their  inventive  powers,  and  their  industry,  in  the 
preparation  of  gifts.     We  oRen  gave  them  prcsents-as  a  set  of 
books,  a  game  or  a  puz.le-whicli  belonged  to   all.  so  that 
common  rights   and   common    property  should   exercise   their 
honesty  and  self-sacrifice.      Thanksgiving  was  another  festival 
especially  a  Home  festival,  when  we  thanked  God  for  gracious- 
ness  to  us  as  a  household,  for  blessings  on  household  labors,  and 
formcreasing  our  common  store.     We  taught  our  children  to 
have  an   interest  in  each  other's  preferences,  and  if  they  had 
rivalries    that    they   should    be    generous   ones,   and   without 
jealou.sy.     If  one  child  enjoyed  flowers  and  gardening,  all  were 
interested  in  procuring  seeds,  bulbs,  roots,  or  new  information 
m  horticulture.     Where  another  was  fend  of  fowls  or  stock  all 
were  alert  to  hear  of  or  obtain  fresh  varieties.     Thus  the  Jerv' 
diversities  of  tastes  in  the  family  were  incentives  to  kind  act. 
and  bonds  of  new  affection.     I  have  heard  people  say  that  their 
children  were  so  unlike  in  tastes  and  dispositions,  that  they 
could  not  expect  them  to  be  companionable  to  each  other  •  but  I 
found  that,  ruled  by  love,  these  differences  of  taste  and  opinion 
only  increased  tlieir   mutual   happiness   in  each  other,  giving 
a  freshness  to  their  intercourse,  and  a  breadth  to  their  thoughts." 
"Yes,"  said  Hester,  who  was  sitting  with  us  ;  "Jean  IngeloW 
Uas  put  that  thought  into  very  beautiful  verse,  thus: 

> 

•"A»  heaven's  high  iwinn,  whereof  in  Tyrinn  blue. 
The  one  rcvolvelh  i  Ihroush  hin  curse  irnmum 
Mi«lit  Idve  his  brother  of  the  dani(uk  hue. 
For  like  nnd  difTcrcnce. 

•  'For  clifTercnt  pathwny"  evermore  decrwd. 

For  common  K'unl.  two  n«pc<-t.  nnd  one  ipee^ 
One  centre,  and  one  »e«rj 


THE    UNITY  OF   THE   HOME. 


381 


« « For  deep  affinities,  for  drawings  strong, 

That  by  their  nature  each  must  needs  exert; 
For  loved  alliance,  and  for  union  long 
That  stands  before  desert.'  " 

"  I  remember  that,"  said  Cousin  Ann ;  "  it  is  very  beautiful 
I  think  in  that  same  poem  is  the  line :  '  For  human  love  makes 
aliens  near  of  kin.'     If  human  love  can  do  that  for  aliens,  what 
can  it  not  do  for  those  of  our  own  blood  ?     The  ties  of  blood 
are,  we  say,  of  nature;   but   use  and  cultivation   must  make 
them  strong,  or  they  shall  drop  asunder  like  burned  tow.     It 
rests  with  parents  to  make  their  children  true  yoke-fellows  and 
friends,  staunch  to  each  other's  interests,  dearest  friends  and  best 
helpers  in  adversity;  or  whether,  in  youth  left  to  slip  farther  and 
farther  apart,  knowing  no  mutual  interests,  sympathies,  affections, 
they  shall  in  time  drift  from  the  home,  like  dead  leaves  from 
the  tree  in  Autumn,  never  to  know  or  care  more  for  each  other. 
How  much  better  the  home  where  each  child  indissolubly  held 
in  loving  affiliation  shall,  like  the  shoots  of  the  banyan,  but 
reach  out  to  take  fresh  root,  and  growing  each   in  its  place, 
increase  the  .strength  and  stately  beauty  of  the  whole." 

"The  Scripture  tells  us,"  I  said,  "  that  a  brother  is  born  for 
adversity,  but  many  parents  seem  to  forget  that  these  family 
relationships  were  provided  by  God  to  be  comfort,  defence  and 
strength  to  us  in  all  the  days  of  our  lives,  and  fail  in  childhood 
to  weld  the  bonds  of  kin." 

"Some  parents  of  my  acquaintance,"  said  Cousin  Ann.  "think 
that  I  am  very  hard  on  them  in  holding  them  responsible  for 
the  characters  of  their  children,  and  for  all  that  occurs  in  their 
families;  still,  1  do  hold  that  if  there  is  evil  in  the  house,  the 
springs  of  it  will  be  found  in  some  evil  of  commission  or  omis- 
sion  in  the  parents.  The  parental  error  may  have  its  excuses 
and  its  ameliorations  in  the  fact  that  their  parents  before  them 
erred,  and  failed  to  instil  right  views  and  set  a  right  example  i 
wrong  descends  from  generation  to  generation,  and  we  cannot 


tn 


Si       1 


1 


382 


T//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


too  clearly  impress  on  parents'  minds  the  sense  of  their  respon. 
sibility.     I  have  noticed  that  where  there  has  been  in  one  gen- 
eration excessive   severity,   in    the    next  there  is   likely  to   be 
lawlessness,  and  likewise  the  rebound  trom  lawlessness  is  sever- 
ity.    In  this  matter  of  lack  of  unity  and  home  affections,  the 
evil  seems  not  to  rebound  into  sentimentality,   or  passionate 
loving,  but  coldly  to  run  on  from  generation  to  generation  in 
Its  own  kind.     Some  families  arc  remarkable  for  their  strong 
affections;  others  for  their  indifference  to  their  kindred.    Parents 
•should  feel  that  lovingness,  like  other  good  growths,  needs  to  be 
cultivated,  and  it  is  their  duty  to  take  every  measure  to  make  it 
thrive  in  the  garden  of  their  children's  hearts.     Visits  between 
different  members  of  the  family  should  be  exchanged  ;  presents 
should  be  sent ;  no  matter  how  busy  the  life  is,  correspondence 
should  be  kept  up.     Some  husbands  ignore  the  fact  that,  when  a 
right-minded  woman  marries,  she  docs  not  forget  her  own  kin- 
dred and  her  father's  house,  but  retains  love  for  her  parents, 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  this  love  should  be  respected ;  at  what- 
ever sacrifice,  intercourse  should  be  maintained;  years  should  not 
be  allowed  to  pass  when  the  wife  sees  no  face  that  surrounded 
her  childhood.     So,  on  the  other  hand,  the  wife  should  delight 
to  invite  to  her  home  her  husband's  parents  and  brothers  and 
sisters,  making  them  the  friends  of  her  children  and  cementing 
the  natural  bonds  of  the  family.     It  is  a  grand  misfortune  when, 
by  uncontrollable  circumstances,  an  individual  or  a  family  are' 
forced  to  dwell  alone,  isolated,  as  some  tropic  palm  transplanted 
to  a  foreign  climate.     Think  how  time  and  distance  wore  unable 
to  sever  the  .strong  tics  between  pilgrim  Abraham  and  his  father's 
house;  and  after  seventy  years  of  ab.sencc  he  sends  back  to  his 
native  land  to  secure  a  wife  for  his  son,  confident  that  his  kin- 
dred there  have  not  lost  their  loving  interest  in  him.  and  will 
not  say  him  nay." 

Among  the  other  means  which  Cousin  Ann  takes  to  establish 


%    I 


h,l 


I 


THE    UNITY  OF   THE   HOME. 


383 


the  unity  of  her  family  is  that  of  keeping  the  wedding  days. 
Her  children  inherit  the  custom,  and  each  of  iheni  celebrates 
their  own  marriage  anniversary  in  his  own  house,  and  they  all 
go  back  to  the  homestead  to  commemorate  the  beginning  of 
their  family  life,  in  the  marriage  of  Cousin   Reuben  and  Ann, 
Generally  other  relations  beyond  the  immediate  family  are  in^ 
vited,  sometimes  more,  and  sometimes  less.     There  was  a  large 
gathering  on  the  thirtieth  anniversary',  and  all  of  the  immediate 
relatives  were  present,  as  well  as  especial  friends  from  the  neigh- 
borhood, the  daughters-in-law's   families,  the  minister  and  his 
family,  and  relations  of  Cousin  Reuben  from  a  distance.     That 
farm-house  seems  elastic  in  its  power  of  accommodating  people. 
The  children  who  are  at  home  had  improvised  rooms  for  them- 
selves in  .the  attic;  the  servants  took  possession  of  the  rooms 
which  in  July  and  August  belong  to  the  pensioners  from  the 
city;  the  whole  house  was  in  festal  attire.     Sara  had  been  at 
home  for  several  days  helping  in  the  preparations,  and  Martha 
had  been  there  with  me,  also  lending  her  aid. 

It  was  in  June  ;  the  farm  was  in  such  order,  and  showing  such 
a  splendid  prospect  of  crops,  that  one  might  have  supposed  it 
especially  prepared  to  contend  for  a  county  prize;  that  the 
beautiful  acres  which  framed  it  on  either  side  belonged  to  the 
two  elder  sons,  did  not  make  the  prospect  less  pleasing;  the 
large,  comfortable,  unostentatious  farm-house,  draped  in  vines, 
surrounded  with  fine  gardens,  blooming  .shrubbery  and  fragrant 
grape-arbors,  appeared  to  have  a  vitality  of  its  own,  and  to  be 
able  to  rejoice  in  the  joy  of  this  large  family,  which  had  grown 
up  in  its  shelter,  and  returned  there  constantly  to  give  token  of 
their  love  and  happiness.  The  si.K  little  grandchildren  frolic'  ed 
around,  so  evidently  to  the  admiration  of  the  grandparents,  that 
I  askod  Cousin  Ann,  in  all  .seriousness,  which  was  more  sati.s- 
factory,  the  child,  or  the  grandchild  ?  and  she  replied  that  she 
•'  could  not  tell :  both  bad  their  advantages." 


i'l'.U 


I 


m 


S84 


rjy£    COMPLETE  no  ME. 


Fnendship,  frankness,  generosity  everywhere  abounded    At 
sunset  many  of  the  young  people  were  in  the  parlor  singin^ 
while  Sara  played;   the  children,  in  perfect  concord,  enjoyed 
a  game;   along  the  garden  walks  paced  white-haired  Cousin 
Reuben  and  his  whiter-haired  elder  brother  arm-in-arm.   Cousin 
Ann.  her  sister-in-law,  and  three  nieces  were  conversing  on  the 
front  piazza;  the  minister  was  sitting  by  me  in  one  of  the  arbors 
and  glancmg,  well  pleased,  on  the  whole  picture,  he  exclaimed:' 
-ehold,  how  good  and  how  pleasant  it  is  for  brethren  to  dwell 
together  in  unity;  like  the  dew  of  Hermon,  and  the  dew  which 
descended  on  the  mountains  of  Zion,  for  there  the  Lord  com- 
minded  his  blessing,  even  life  forever  more." 


1^ 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  USE  AND  ABUSE  OF  MONEY  IN  THB  HOME. 

AUNT  SOPHRONIA  TELLS   HOW  TO  COKDUCT   DOMESTIC   EXPCV- 

DITURES. 

WAS  quite  amused  lately  by  an  argument  which  I  heard 
between  two  of  Mr.  Carr's  boys.  They  were  sitting 
close  by  my  fence,  where  a  large  willow  casts  its  shade 
on  the  side-walk.  The  subject  of  their  discussion  was 
money.  One  of  the  boys  said  it  was  the  root  of  ::II  evil— that  hi? 
Sunday-school  lesson  had  given  it  that  bad  pre-eminence;  he 
also  supported  this  position  by  facts,  as  that  money  caused 
quarrelling,  and  bought  whiskey.  The  other  boy  maintained 
that  money  was  a  good ;  that  it  bought  us  all  the  nice  things 
which  we  had ;  that  people  were  more  respected  for  possessing 
it;  that  nations  who  had  money  were  civilized,  and  had  all 
manner  of  improvements,  and  only  barbarians  did  not  possess  it 
About  at  this  stage  of  the  argument  they  decided  to  lay  the 
case  before  some  umpire,  and  looking  up  they  saw  me.  Ac- 
cordingly  they  came  near  my  window,  and  the  elder  boy  said 
that  the  "  big  fellows "  in  his  school  had  a  society,  and  were 
about  to  debate  the  question  whether  money  or  woman  had  had 
the  greater  influence  over  men ;  he  and  his  brother  on  hearing 
the  question  had  found  that  they  differed  greatly  as  to  the 
merits  of  money, 

"  I  think,"  I  said,  "  that  you  have,  both  of  you,  right  views, 
but  they  are  not  clearly  before  your   minds.     You  say,  Joe, 
that  your  lesson  declares  money  to  be  the  root  of  all  evil 
»  (886) 


>filll 


1 


;!t    :i 

rili  ^ 


UC|£^^ 


386 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


There  you  mistake  :  it  says  the  lo-oe  of  money  is  the  root  of  all 
evil.     Money  is  not  to  be  prized  as  an  end,  but  as  a  means  :  it 
is  not  valuable  for  what  it  is,  but  for  what  it  will  procure.'    We 
have  no  right  to  love  money  in  itself     Misers  love  money;  they 
hoard  it;  it  does  them  no  good;  they  prevent,  in  their  hoarding, 
the  good  which  it  might  do  in  circulation;  money  is  not  to  them' 
a  means  of  doing  or  getting  good,  but  it  is  the  end  of  their 
desires.     We  may  also  love  money  unlawfully  as  a  means,  when 
the  end  v/hich  we  desire  to  obtain  by  it  will  be  selfish  or  wrong. 
If  we  crave  it  to  surround  ourselves  with  luxuries,  refusing  hos- 
pitality, charity  and  help  to  others,  then  we  love  money  or  its 
equivalent,  and  it  is  a  root  of  evil  to  us.     The  love  of  money  is 
the  root  of  all  evil,  because  it  tempts  men  to  break  all  the  Com- 
mandments :  they  worship  money  instead  of  God,  and  so  break 
the  first  and   second  Commandments;   for  money,  men   have 
sworn  falsely;  have  perjured  themselves,  and  so  have  used  in 
vain  God's  holy  name.     To  increase  their  property,  men  labor 
on  the  Sabbath;  for  love  of  money,  people  have  refused  to  help 
their  old  or  sick  parents,  to  give  fair  wages  to  workers,  to  aid 
the  poor,  and   to  bestow  charities;   and    in  these  ways  have 
broken    the   fifth    Commandment.     You   boys   have  doubtless 
read  and  heard  of  plenty  of  instances  where  people  have  stolen, 
lied,  murdered,  coveted,  for    love  of  money,  and  the    love  of 
money  has  caused  them  thus  to  break  those  two  great  Com- 
mandments—to love  God  and  our  neighbor— which  Christ  said 
included  all  the  law  and  the  prophets.     Thus  you  understand 
that  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil.     Therefore,  we 
must  not  love  money,  but  the  good  which  we  may  do  with  it. 

"On  the  other  hand,  Samuel,  you  are  right  in  claiming  that 
money  is  needful  and  useful,  and  that  by  it  immense  good  is 
accomplished.  Great  geniuses  have  invented,  but  moneyed  men 
have  put  the  inventions  into  practical,  active  use.  Money  has 
printed  our   book.s,   established    hospitals,   endowed   colleges, 


USE  AND  ABUSE    OF  MOXEY  IN  THE  HOME. 


387 


turned  swamps  into  grand  cities,  deserts  into  farms,  forest-wilds 
into  valuable  town-lots.  Money  has  sent  out  missionaries,  has 
multiplied  Bibles,  has  encouraged  discoveries  and  inventions: 
it  is  a  bond  between  nations,  produces  commerce,  maintains 
railroads,  pushes  on  the  world  in  all  its  civilizations  and 
advancements.  The  Bible  bids  us  be  diligent  in  business;  says 
if  a  man  will  not  work,  he  shall  not  eat;  promises  wealth  as  a 
reward  of  honest  toil ;  so  money  honestly  earned,  used  for  good 
objects,  not  engrossing  our  souls  from  good  things,  but  used  to 
promote  good,  is  a  good  thing  to  have,  and  we  should  receive 
it  as  a  gift  of  God.  So  you  see  the  good  or  the  evil  lies  not  in 
the  money  itself,  which  is  merely  a  bit  of  metal  fixed  upon  as  a 
medium  of  exchange,  but  the  good  or  evil  lies  in  our  own 
hearts,  in  our  method  of  using  or  abusing  it." 

Now,  when  the  boys  had  run  off,  I  sat  thinking  about  this 
Question  of  money  and  its  influence.  ,  What  a  power  it  is  in  the 
world!  If  in  the  woi.d  at  large,  then  in  the  home,  which  is  the 
world  in  miniature,  and  the  root  of  public  and  national  life. 
How  do  people  in  their  homes  regard  money  ?  What  is  the 
manner  of  its  Use?  what  the  fashion  of  its  Abuse?  I  said  to 
myself,  money  lies  behind  all  our  bread,  our  clothes,  our  shelter, 
our  education — every  man  gets  it  and  spends  it;  at  some 
point  all  his  toil  means  money;  at  some  point  all  his  relaxation 
reduces  itself  to  money.  I  will  this  very  day  get  out  my  jour- 
nals, wherein  I  have  noted  for  so  many  years  all  that  I  have 
seen  and  thought  of  bionics,  and  I  will  see  how  money  is 
making  or  marring  in  domestic  life. 

Every  year  money  becomes  a  larger  and  larger  factor  in  the 
problems  of  human  existence.  It  was  once  the  fashion  to 
express  a  lofty  disdain  of  money,  to  condemn  its  importance ; 
but  this  disdain  exists  only  in  theory.  It  is  idle  to  quarrel  with 
facts,  and  our  contempt  of  wealth  does  not  extend  beyond  the 
hour  when  we  can  get  it  in  possession.     While  very  lofty  virtues 


•1 


388 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


i     •• 


have  flourished  in  .he  midst  of  destitution,  we  n,„,t  not  con. 
t'T       '  "'■  '"^  '=«"™"=  '="^"«»  "'  destitution; 
from  the  unfriendly  nature  of  their  surroundings.    The  pos 
session  of  moneyno.  only  opens  to  a  man  many  nLavenues  of 

.7  Tf    ■  '"'  ■'  ^"-^  "P-  '""  "-e  Coor  of  many  tempta, 
■ons.     If  we  examme  even  those  errors  to  which  L„ey  is 

,.posed  to  render  a  man  especially  liable,  we  sl-all  find  fh 
hoy  consort  equally  with  a  desperate  poverty.     In  proport  on 
to  the,r  numbers,  there  are  more  debauched  beggars  than  nil 
onnaires,  more  criminals  among  the  ve^  poor  tlrtn  a.    T;: he" 
vcy  r,ch.     Extravagance,  the  living  beyond  one's  means 'and 
hghtly  dissipating   our  money,  whether  it   be  more   orl    3 
belongs  as  much  to  the  poor  as  .0  the  rlch-indeed,  no  class  so 
readily  squander  their  earnings  as  those  who  have  gained  d  em 

tobeTth'^"'"™"^-     '''""™^^"='  *'"«"Sares„ppte: 
.0  bo  o    the  crimes  into  which  the  very  rich  are  betrayed  bu, 
even  when  the  proportion  of  numbers    is   ao;ustcd   cLfL    , 
hero  IS  more  indulgence  in  these  faults  among  the  moncyl    s" 
«.an  the  moneyed.     The  prayer  of  Agur  covers  the  case :  "  G^ 
me  neither  poverty  nor  riches:  lest  I  be  full  and  deny  thel 
lest  I  be  poor  and  steal.'    Here  each  state  has  its  danger  and  the' 
-  of  the  rich  is  more  li.ely  to  be  covert,  of  the  po™ 
The  one  errs  of  self-confidence,  the  other  of  despei.t,on.    What 
Agur  desired  was  that  safe  middle-ground,  where  happily  so 
arge  a  proportion  of  people  stand.     He  ,Vho  .».  „.,ZZ 
has  his  daily  bread,  is  not  poor.     Great  wealth  could  put'll 
m  no  better  position,  except  in  making  his  cloth  a  lit'e  fi    ? 
and  spreading  more  butter  on  his  bread     To  lack  a  large  bank 
account  is  not  to  be  poo,  if.  on  the  other  hand  there  1,    o 
dea    weight  of  debts.     As  long  as  courage,  activity  ,:':„: 
edge  of    ome  useful  occupation  remain  to  us,  and  we  owe  no 
man  anything  but  to  love  one  anod.er,  then  we  are  no.  inrien" 


USE  AND  ABUSE   OF  MONEY  IN   THE  HOME. 


389 


"Forgive   mc,  poverty!"   cries   a   French  writer,  "  that  I  con 
founded  thee  with  indigence.     To  wealth  man  fastens  himself  as 
one  grown  upon  a  rock,  but  in  contented  poverty,  which  is  not 
neediness,  one  sits  as  in  a  skifi;  where  one  may  easily  cut  the 
cable  and  drift  away  to  the  better  land." 

Now  I  find  that  as  to  money  m  the  Home,  three  writers  of 
diverse  nations  give  us  three  precepts  which  maybe  well  api)liod. 
Cicero  tells  us.  that  "  Economy  is  in  itself  a  great  revenue." 
Joubert,  a  Frenchman,  warns  us,  that  "  Debts  abridge  life." 
While  Lord  Bacon  gives  us  this  counsel :  "  Seek  not  ]jroud 
riches,  but  such  as  thou  mayst  get  justly,  use  soberly,  dis- 
tribute cheerfully,  and  leave  contentedly,  yet  have  no  abstract 
or  friarly  contempt  of  them." 

Now  among  all  its  other  havings,  the  Home  must  have  a 
money  basis.     Money  mu.st  build  its  shelter;  feed,  and  clothe, 
and  school  its  inmates ;  provide  for  their  old  age ;  and  as  new 
members  are  added  to  the  family,  parental  foresight  discerns 
their  coming  needs,  and  reaches  out  for  means  to  supply  them. 
To   provide   this  money   basis   of  the    Home,  Providence    has 
bestowed   upon    us   humans,  acquisitiveness,  or  an   ability    for 
getting.     The  bestowal  of  this  impulse  is  beneficent;  for,  setting 
aside  a  deal  of  absurd   declaiming  on  the  incompatibility  of 
wealth  and  virtue,  we  face  the  facts  that  pauperism  prevents  a 
man  fulfilling  his  duty  as  a  man  and  a  citizen,  and  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten  is  the  child  of  laziness  and  twin-brother  of  crime ; 
while  though  wealth  does  not  create  virtue,  it  is  obviously  not 
inimical  to  it,  and  dwells  with  it  very  peaceably  in  the  same 
nest;  and  between  these  two  is  that  safe  middle-ground,  afford- 
ing living  room,  scope  for  useful  labor,  where,  as  on  a  plain 
removed  alike  from  burning  heats  and  biting  cold,  the  Home 
may  be  happily  established.     To  reach  this  position  of  comfort 
should  be  the  aim  of  every  family;  such  a  position  should  be 
desired  and  labored  for  with  a  tenacity  v'lich  never  relaxes  into 


,"i 


If        ij 

'11 


ill 


390 


T//E  COMPLETE  HOME. 


{■f 

41 

s- 

i 

W^^Mii 

ikM 

m 

inertia,  and  with  a  quiet  hopefulness  which  will  keep  us  from 
being  over-anxious  about  the  morrow.  In  this  proper  pursuit 
of  family  independence,  we  must  consider  the  mcufis  to  employ, 
the  dangers  to  avoid,  th&  frame  of  mind  in  which  to  live. 

I  tried  to  impress  upon  my  nieces  from  the  time  when  they 
set    up   housekeeping   for   themselves   that   saying   of  Cicero: 
•'  Economy  is  in  it?  .If  a  great  revenue."     I  had  the  sentence 
illuminated  and  framed,  and  presented  it  to  each  of  them,  as  also 
to  others  of  my  young  friends:  I  desired  to  create  in  our  village 
a  feeling  that  economy  was  creditable.     Now  just  as  there  is  a 
wide  difference  between  poverty,  or  the  state  of  unwealth  and 
indigence  or  neediness,  so  there  is  a  great  difference  between 
economy  and  penuriousness.     Economy  builds  up  the  home; 
penuriousness  saps  its  strength.     I  warned  my  young  friends 
that   the  great  danger  of  beginners   is  a  contempt  of  littles. 
They  would  see   that  a  saving  of  a  hundred  or  a  thousand 
dollars  was  reasonable,  but  they  do  not  appreciate  the  virtue 
of  saving  as  many  cents.     As  says  the  old  proverb,  "  Many  a 
little  makes  a  mickle,"  but  we  elderly  people,  who  have  seen  the 
littles  grow  to  mickles,  and  have  outlived  long  examples  in 
compound    interest,   understand    much    more  clearly  than   the 
young  the  value  of  small  economies;  therefore,  while  with  the 
elderly  these  economies  are  matters  of  reason  and  experience, 
with  the  young  they  must  be  matters  of  habit.     Young  people's 
habits  are  of  course  matters  of  education,  and  parents  should 
realize  that  by  instructing  their  children  in  the  practice  of  econ- 
omy, they  are  laying  the  foundations  of  their  future  fortunes, 
the  comfort  and  stability  of  their  homes,  and  the  fortunes  of 
their  grandchildren.     I  saw  very  clearly  this  difference  in  habits 
of  economy  between  Helen  and  Miriam  as  young  housewives. 
Helen  had  never  been  trained  to  consider  her  small  expendi- 
tures;   she  would   lose   or   spend    numerous    little   sums,  and 
remark  that  such  a  little  made  no  dififercnce— a  few  shillings,  or 


USE  AND   ABUSE    OF  MONEY  IN   THE  HOME. 


391 


cents,  or  a   iollar  or  two;  "it  would  be  all  the  same  in  a  life- 
time." • 

I  replied  to  her  one  day,  "  Indeed,  my  dear  girl,  it  will  not  be 
all  the  same  in  a  lifetime.  You  are  but  little  past  twenty;  you 
hardly  look  forward  to  living  less  than  thirty  or  forty  years 
longer,  and  it  will  be  far  from  all  the  same  in  that  lifetime 
whether  these  littles  are  saved  or  wasted.  Suppose,  in  littles, 
you  waste  less  than  one  dollar  a  week,  say  fifty  dollars  in  a 
year :  put  that  out  at  six  per  cent,  compound  interest,  and  in 
forty  years  you  have  seven  thousand  seven  hundred  dollars. 
Now  it  would  make  perhaps  a  deal  of  difference  to  you  whether 
at  sixty-two  you  had  that  much  more  to  live  on  or  to  bequeath. 
It  might  be  a  deal  of  good  to  one  of  your  children  to  have  that 
much  additional." 

Shortly  after  Mary  Watkins  was  married,  Miriam  invited  a 
small  company  to  meet  her  at  tea.  The  conversation  happened 
to  turn  on  this  question  of  building  up  domestic  finances ;  and 
some  of  the  young  women  said  to  me :  "Aunt  Sophronia,  what 
are  the  rules  for  getting  rich  ?  " 

"  Come,"  I  said,  "  do  you  suppose  the  answer  to  that  question 
will  be  short  or  long,  hard  or  easy  ?  " 

Said  Helen,  "  I  should  think  it  would  be  very  long,  as  there 
are  millions  of  ways  of  getting  rich,  and  people  have  been 
busy  for  several  thousand  years  in  discussing  them.  It  must  be 
a  very  hard  question  to  answer,  also,  inasmuch  as  most  people 
find  it  so  very  h  -"d  to  get  rich." 

"All  that  has  been  said  can  be  boiled  down  to  a  very  short 
and  simple  answer,"  I  replied;  "  and  all  the  difficulty  in  the  work 
lies  in  the  needful  self-sacrifice.  The  question  first  is.  What  do 
you  mean  by  getting  rich  ?  Do  you  wish  to  know  how  to  lay  up 
an  immense  superfluity — to  become  millionnaires  ?  Or  will  you 
be  content  to  call  honest  independence,  enough  to  live  upon  taste- 
fully without  fear  or  favor,  enough   to   keep  away  the  wolve/ 


ici^scL^ 


iH 


^^^  ^^^    COMPLETE    HOME 

'       Of  debt  and  want,  and  to  send  out  from  your  door  on 

errands,  the  full-handed  angels  <.^  h  ,  '        ^°"^ 

that  being  rich  ?  "  "^  benevolenc,-will  you  call 

;;  I  will  "  said  Miriam ;  "  n.ore  would  be  a  useless  burden  " 
You  know,"  said  Helen,  lauLdiinfr  "  thit  .>  •       •  ,   , 

Xecp  is  .ca,„  a  b„de„  and  „„.  a  help  .'o  hi™'     ^"  '^'°'''  *= 

-lt;:a^r.;:;,::\T,^-----,  co.ro„aB,e 

are   few   and    simple    and  ,         "■""  """^  ""=  '"''''■  -''■■* 

Wo*  hard,  se  3d  ,1     ""  ,''  "     °'™=''    ''^  ^"'f-«"«- 

oraeheandCr:;^':::;:"  7ha:°''^rr'"'^-'^  ■-■==•'-' 

wisdom  of  the  world  ha,  h  J        "         '"■■*  "'"  ="  ">= 

rule,  for  getulrih      Th  '  '°  "«="  ="«  '■°™"'«= - 

-".w.h:%:tdei:;;r:L;:;3'r"^^""""'- 

.°>vard  it  and  do  it  honestl/a„d  d  „r;i;e    p^:;;,  7  ^ 

reached  your  p-oiI  •  fJ,«  o.  ,  •  '^         '  >^"  have 

i/uurgoai,  tne  same  pain  stmo-hf  ,..,    r 
Dassnhlo  r^.  I  •  '  ^'^'^^'S"^  unadorned  and  vet 

passable  road  is  open  to  all."  ^ 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Minini  '<  K..^  *i         ■  . 

.-i.,cs  „o„,d  he  the  i«:d:  'to  e  rr:'  "'t  °'""'- 

quickly."  ■  '"'  '  ''°  ""t  =■;';  things 

"And  I  do  know."  said  Melon,  "that  the  'werk  hard '  ,„  ,  „ 
econom.e' would  be  equally  difficult  to  me  f„       1,    h     " 
and  yet-I  want  to  helo  Frank  „  ,  ,  '=  '"'"'• 

children  nu,st  be  provide!!,  ^       ""  °"  '"  '"^  "-'"■  --^  -' 

«   think  of  bnyin,  moX  '  a  d      nTL":!,:^  '™'  """ 
mortgage."  *    ^"*   '"'^''"i    '"ore 

"These  same  difficulties"!  sn.VI  '<^„„f      .    , 

t"."<l.od  thousand,  which  he  ,  rlnrri  , '    "  """"•'"'  " 

>'*>■  Rourke,  whose  hu,  ,„d  .:  r       fl.it     r  V';"";""' ■"■" 

nMHh,     The  result  will  ,1         ,  '         """^  ''""•ts  a 

result  „,ll  depend  on  now  we  manage  the  d,fficu,. 


USE  AND  ABUSE   OF  MONEY  IN  THE  HOME. 


393 


5r,  on  youf 
'(  you  call 

urden." 
that  Astor 
eyond  the 

imfortable 
les,  wiiich 
f-sacrifice. 

keep  out 
It  all  the 
mulate  as 
in  a  nut- 
wn  work- 
'ou  have 

and  yet 

'  oppor- 

-  things 

and  the 
e  both, 
ind  our 

-,"  said 

Ti,  and 

more 

with  a 
n,  and 

liars  a 
ifficul- 


ties;  the  millionnaire  may  manage  so  as  to  get  into  tlie  peniten- 
tiary, the  poor-house,  or  be  a  pauper  on  the  hands  of  liis  friends; 
Betsy  Rourke  may  manage  so  as  to  secure  a  tidy  cabin  of  her 
own  for  her  old  age ;  put  all  her  children  in  the  way  of  earning 
a  better  living  than  her  own;  have  never  a  debt;  always  a  little 
laid  up  for  a  rainy  day,  and  die  respected.  Each  of  you  may 
manage  so  as  to  live  under  a  perpetual  fear  of  being  pushed  into 
ruin  by  the  first  touch  on  you  of  sickness,  loss,  a  death  in 
the  family,  or  by  sudden  hard  times;  or  you  may  walk  con- 
fidently inside  of  a  safe,  strong  margin  wherewith  you  have 
hemmed  your  affairs." 

"  Your  mention  of  Betsy  Rourke,"  said  Mrs.  Winton,  "  re- 
minds me  that  we  who  visit  a  good  deal  among  the  poor  in  this 
town,  and  among  the  workers  in  our  shops  and  factories,  are 
not  doing  our  duty  by  them  in  giving  them  clear,  practical  in- 
structions, and  a  little  encouragement  in  regard  to  the  manage- 
ment of  their  money  affairs.  We  could  do  it  in  a  friendly  way, 
without  .seeming  to  intrude  on  what  is  no  concern  of  ours.  The 
poor  know  nothing  of  political  economy,  and  very  nearly  as  little 
of  domestic  economy.  The  most  of  them  in  this  town  manage 
little  more  than  to  be  one  day  in  advance  of  starvation.  They 
use  up  their  earnings  as  they  go ;  a  little  extra  earnings  does  not 
mean  a  ncst-cgg  for  future  savings,  a  plea.sant  addition  made  to 
the  little  balance  in  bank,  but  it  means  a  day's  pleasure  excur. 
sion;  some  bit  of  finery;  a  grand  dinner.  It  is  harder  for  them 
to  be  prudent  than  to  be  industrious;  they  expect  to  work  hard, 
but  they  do  not  expect  to  save  carefully.  They  toil  laboriously, 
and  .spend  the  money  as  recklessly  as  if  it  grew  in  their  pockets." 

"  They  think,"  .said  Miriam,  "that  what  they  can  lay  by  is  so 
little  that  it  is  not  worth  the  trying  to  accumulate." 

"And  yet  these  littles  can  grow  into  a  handsome  reserve.  My 
mother-in-law  lia<l  the  san)e  cook  for  thirty-five  years.  My 
father-in-law  leO  this  old  servant  five  hundred  dollars;  she  her- 


'Mill 


394 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


ll    ! 
11 


self  saved  every  week  a  portion  of  her  wages;  she  dressed  com. 
fortably;  always  gave  her  h'ttle  contributions  at  church;  helped 
some  of  her  poor  relations;  was  thrifty  without  being  mean;  at 
the  end  of  the  thirty-five  years'  service  she  had  thirty-five  hun- 
drcd  dollars  [aid  up;  at  tin's  time  she  became  crippled  and  retired 
from  work,  living  in  modest  ease  for  ten  years  on  what  she  had 
saved,  and  finally  providing  for  her  burial  and  giving  some  little 
legacies  to  her  friends.  Mer  savings  had  made  her  independent 
/n  age,  when  she  might  luive  been  a  pauper." 

"Our  working-people.-  I  .said,  "receive  wages  which  make 
them  comfortable  as  long  as  they  are  earning  them,  but  owing 
to  .their  habit  of  using  up  all  as  fast  as  they  earn  it,  as  .soon  as  a 
slack  time  comes,  or  an  accident  happens,  or  an  epidemic  is 
abroad,  they  are  reduced  to  straits.  They  would  lay  up  four  or 
five  dollars  a  wegk  if  they  had  the  chance,  but  they  despise  the 
little  which  it  is  in  their  power  to  .save." 

"But,  aunt,  it  is  so  little.  Tha-e  is  Hannah's  brother-  he 
gets  thirty  dollars  a  month,  and  that  is  as  little  as  they  can 
live  on," 

"If  they  can  live  on  thirty,  by  a  little  management  they  can 
hve  on  twenty-nine.  What  is  one  dollar  a  month  saved?  Very 
httle;  but  put  out  the  twelve  dollars  at  interest,  and  keep  on 
adding  to  it  at  like  rate,  and  in  two  years  he  has  twenty-six  dol- 
lars and  a  half,  and  it  goes  on  increasing;  in  a  few  years  he  has 
the  comfortable,  self-respecting  feeling  of  a  man  with  a  decent 
little  balance  in  bank.     It  is  worth  trying." 

"There  is  a  vast  difference."  said  Mrs.  Burr,  "between  thrift 
and  avarice  or  meanness.  True,  the  line  between  t])rift  and 
greed  is  so  closely  drawn  that  8omc  people  overstep  it  without 
being  aware.  Our  little  savings  should  not  be  made  at  the 
expense  of  strict  honesty,  of  charity,  of  .sympathy ;  there  ar« 
things  far  more  useful  an.l  important  in  a  home  than  .saving. 
We  are  not  to  make  our  small  savings,  or  oir  great  savings,  by 


' 


USE  AND  ABUSE   OF  MONEY  IN  THE  HOME. 


395 


Iressed  com- 
irch;  helped 
ig  mean ;  at 
"ty-five  hun- 
and  retired 
hat  she  had 
\  some  little 
independent 

/hich  make 
,  but  owing 
s  soon  as  a 
L;pidemic  is 
■  up  four  or 
despise  the 

irother:  he 
i  they  can 

it  they  can 
ed  ?  Very 
i  keep  on 
ty-six  dol- 
ars  he  has 
I  a  decent 

r'ccn  thrift 
tJirift  and 
it  without 
de  at  the 
there  are 
in  saving, 
ivings,  by 


grinding  the  faces  of  the  poor;  by  depriving  ourselves  of  rest, 
and  of  things  needful  to  our  health  and  for  the  prolongation 
of  our  lives ;  nor  by  restricting  our  children  of  proper  grati- 
fications and  recreations,  making  the  memory  of  their  youth  a 

bitterness." 

"The  question  seems  to  be  in  order,"  said  Miriam,  '7ww  are 
we  to  economize?  where  shall  we  make  our  savings,  small  and 

great?" 

"  Here,"  I  said,  "  is  field  for  self-denial.     We  must  not  expect 
to  set  out  in  life  as  lavishly  as  we  should  like  to  end.     We  can 
only  do  that  if  some  amiable  ancestor  has  endowed  us  with  a 
fortune.     The  sons  and  daughters  leave  homes  which  the  exep. 
tions  and  carefulness  of  parents  have  built  up  into  a  degree  of 
luxury;  mother  has  her  two  or  three  servants;  father  his  horse 
and  carriage;  the  house  is  large ;  furnishings  are  handsome;  the 
summer  affords  a  long  vacation.     The  young  folks  fancy  that 
the  new  home  wherein  they  set  up  must  have  all  these  appoint- 
ments.    They  arc  not  extravagance  for  the  parents,  who  have 
the  results  of  years  ^o  fall  back  upon,  but  they  are  extravagance 
to  the  young  folks,  the  results  of  whose  years  are  yet  to  come. 
They  forget  that  father  and  mother  began  in  the  narrow  way; 
that  they  had  a  small  hou.se,  and  economized  as  to  fires,  and 
waited  a  year  before  they  furnished  the  spare-room;  and  mother 
did  the  most  of  her  own  work,  and  father  walked  to  his  place  of 
business,  and  they  went  to  no  costly  entertainments;  looked  at 
fine  goods  through  shop  windows,  and  not  over  counters  pi-rsc 
in  hand.   The  veteran  may  rest  on  his  laurels,  the  tyro  must  earn 
his.    If  our  young  people  wish  with  no  capital  to  live  like  people 
«ho  have  capital,  the  result  will   be  debt,  disaster,  disgrace. 
Who  can  count  the  homes  kept  in  constant  gnawing  misery  by 
living  beyond  their  means;  debt  pressing;  exposure  menacing; 
credit  .slipping  away!     Life  is  .shortened  by  extravagant  living. 
If  wc  try  to  build  a  business  on  show,  by  seeming  to  have  what 


WL 


S     I 


^ 


'V 


Ui 


■MPW- 


396 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


we  ready  do  not  possess,  then  we  are  building  our  house  upon 
the  sand,  and  when  the  rains  descend,  the  winds  blow  and  the 
floods  beat,  then  the  Home  shall  fall  into  miserable  ruin 

"This  extravagance   in  living  does  not  necessarily  mean  a 
coachman  in  livery;  a  bay  span;  a  box  at  the  opera;  velvet  and 
pomt-lace.  and  a  splendid  house;  extravagance  in  living  is  to  be 
living  beyond  our  means,  be  they  large  or  small.     If  our  means 
are  equal  only  to  expending  nine  hundred,  and  we  live  up  to  a 
thousand,  then  we  are  extravagant,  although  we  hired  no  cab  • 
wore  no  silk  gown ;  bought  no  pine-apples ;  kept  no  nurse-maid' 
We  were  extravagant  where  another  would  have  been  very  sav- 
ing.  because  we  went  beyond  our  means;  he  kept  within  his 
Extravagance  in  living  stands  before  our  mind's  eye  a  gor-cous 
creature:  plumed  like  a  bird  of  paradise;  glittering  like  a  Dam- 
ascene  blade;   splendid    if  dangerous.      Extravagance   should 
rather  appear  as  a  corrupting  corpse,  a  hangman's  rope  clutched 
.n  Its  discolored  hand;  a  ghastly  wound  across  the  throat •  a 
gibbet  behind  it.  and  the  pit  of  perdition  yawning  in  front-  for 
this  extravagance,  equally  common  to  men  and  women,  equally 
criminal  to  both,  stands  at  the  back  of  ninety-nine  one-hun. 
dredths  of  the  suicides,  defaulters,  murderers,  forgers,  delinquent 
guardians  and  trustees,  plunderers  of  widows  and  orphans    This 
extravagance  leers  at  us  over  the  wrecks  of  homes  and  reputa- 
tions  and  brains;  it  gibbers  at  us  from  the  mad-house;  creeps  to 
the  penitentiary  cell ;  sweeps  slowly  by  in  the  dishonored  bier- 
lies  ghastly  in  the  morgue;  goes  down  darkly  and  rises  festering 
from  the  waters  in  the '  unknown  drowned.' 

"  If  wives  .see  that  their  husbands  incline  to  extravagance,  they 
should  hold  them  back  from  this  brink  of  ruin  with  all  their 
power;  and  they  should  beware  of  extravagance  in  their  own 
persons,  for  by  it  maiiy  a  wife  has  become  a  millstone  about  her 
husbciid's  neck  to  sink  him  in  a  sea  of  misery." 
"You  are  so  earnest  that  you  frighten  me."  cried  Helen. 


*M^^ 


house  upon 

3\v',  and  the 

uin. 

ily  mean  a 

velvet  and 
ng  is  to  be 

our  means 
ive  up  to  a 
:d  no  cab; 
lurse-maid. 
1  very  sav- 
>vithin  his. 
I  gorgeous 
ce  a  Dam- 
::c  should 
-  clutched 

throat;  a 
front;  for 
n,  equally 

onc-hun  • 
lelinquent 
ms.  This 
id  reputa- 
creeps  to 
red  bier; 

festering 

ncc,  they 

all  their 

lieir  own 

bout  her 

en. 


USE   AND   ABUSE    OF  MONEY  LV  THE   HOME.  397 

"  I  feel  that  she  cannot  be  too  earnest,"  said  Miriam  ;  "  and  I 
eschew  extravagance  with  all  my  heart  from  this  time  forth. 
But,  Aunt  Sophronia,  one  may  be  extravagant— that  is,  be  living, 
although  but  a  little,  beyond  their  income— without  knowing  it : 
they  may  be  sinking  in  a  quicksand  before  they  are  aware  that 
they  have  stepped  upon  it.  How  shall  we  know  that,  while 
striving  to  be  economical,  we  are  not  becoming  penurious,  and 
that,  trying  to  be  fair,  we  are  not  extravagant?  " 

"In  the  first  place,  know  your  income;  and  in  the  second 
place,  mark  your  expenses.     In  other  words  keep  accounts.    As 
to  avoiding  penuriousness,  we  must  remember  that  over  all  we 
have  God  holds  a  first  mortgage,  and  humanity  a  second.     Of 
these  two  mortgages  we  must  pay  the  interest  honestly ;  they 
are  our  first  debts,  and  when  they  are  fairly  attended  to,  then 
we  must  mark  our  accounts.     We  shall  have  avoided  the  Scylla 
of  penuriousness,  and  we  must  steer  clear  of  the  Charybdis  of 
extravagance :  we  shall  do  this  by  means  of  a  diligent  studjr 
of  our  account-books.     Great  men   have  not  despised  carefi'I 
account-keeping;    indeed,   their  carefulness   in   this   particular 
was  one  token  of  their  greatness.     Washington  and  Wellington 
were  both  very  particular  in  account-keeping.     We  should  dare 
to   look    resolutely  at  the    state  of   our   affairs:    bankruptcies 
oftener  arise  in  a  neglect  in  scrutinizing  our  accounts  than  in 
any  other  one  •;ause.     England  and  France  have  laws  obliging 
all  business  people  ro  keep  proper  account-books.    Every  house- 
wife should  have  her  account-books.     When  a  sei-vant  enters 
her  employ,  she  should  put  down  the  commg  into  service  and 
the  rate  of  wage., ;  every  payment  should  be  scrupulously  set 
down  in  the  servants'  presence  as  they  receive  the  wages.     All 
the  daily  expenditures  should  be  set  down ;  each  month  the 
account  should  be  footed  up ;  the  monthly  proportion  of  rent, 
lights,  fuel,  wages,  be  added,  and  the  amount  compared  with  the 
month's  income.     If  the  amount  oversteps  the  income,  or  so 


%\,t 


1^ 


'^ri 


11:  »r' 


11 


i 


398 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


■■i' 


m 


'^"1 


ii 


squarely  meets  it  that  there  is  not  that  needed  margin  for  the 
small  savings,  then  revise  the  account  and  take  warning. 
Where  needlessly  was  spent  the  dollar  ?  What  costly  item  for 
the  table  can  be  replaced  by  one  more  suitable  to  our  means  ? 
Where  was  the  useless  indulgence,  whicn,  denied,  would  have 
brought  this  account  into  proper  shape  ?  Where  shall  our  next 
saving  be  scrupulously  made  ?  Let  us  discern  between  the  need- 
ful and  the  needless.  Can  next  month  be  brought  to  settle  the 
deficit  of  this,  so  that  the  year  shall  not  tell  the  story  of  our  folly  ? 
Let  us  now  take,  by  a  month  of  self-denial,  the  consequences 
of  our  carelessness,  and  we  shall  arise  and  do  better." 

"  We  must  surely  keep  accounts,"  said  Miriam,  "  but  these 
things  which  you  have  suggested  to  us  seem  rather  in  the  way 
of  preventing  expenditures  than  of  making  money  I  suppose 
it  is  true  that  we  are  enriched  not  so  much  by  what  we  make  as 
by  what  we  save ;  but  let  us  have  at  least  one  rule  for  gaining." 

"  I  do  not  know  any  rule  for  gaining,"  said  Mrs.  Burr,  "  which 
would  come  before  persistency  in  a  course  well  begun.  Do  not 
become  restless,  think  that  you  accumulate  too  slowly,  that 
some  other  line  of  life  would  be  better,  and  so  change  your 
business.  A  woman  has  much  influence  over  her  husband's 
business.  If  she  constantly  finds  fault  with  it,  undervalues  its 
efficiency  or  respectability,  contrasts  it  unfavorably  with  others, 
she  will  presently  move  him  to  some  change  which  may  be 
disastrous.  I  knew  a  young  woman  whose  husband  owned 
a  nice  farm  :  she  began  to  crave  town  life ;  she  did  not  want  to 
be  a  fanner's  wife,  to  bring  up  her  children  in  the  country ; 
finally  she  persuaded  him  to  sell  the  farm,  and  set  up  in  the  city 
as  a  real  estate  agent.  At  that  business  he  has  starved  along 
ever  since ;  his  children  are  unhealthy  and  ill-provided  ;  while  the 
purchaser  of  the  farm  has  a  nice  home  and  competence.  I  know 
another  young  woman  who  took  it  into  her  head  that  her 
husband  had  better  study  a  profession  than  be  a  village  grocer. 


laMi^. 


USE  AND  ABUSE   OF  MONEY  IN  THE  HOME. 


39fl 


He  had  a  nice  trade,  but  the  couple  went  mad  on  a  false  idea  of 
gentility.  He  gave  up  his  business,  studied  medicine,  did  not 
succeed  in  getting  a  practice,  and  has  lived  from  hand  to 
mouth.  We  cannot  say  that  change  is  never  advisable :  most 
rules  have  exceptions ;  but  the  safe  rule  is  to  persevere  in  the 
line  of  life  upon  which  one  has  entered.  Often  the  safest 
business  is  the  slowest.  This  is  particularly  true  of  farming : 
almost  no  farmers  who  attend  faithfully  to  their  own  work  and 
avoid  speculations  are  ever  bankrupts ;  but  as  their  gains  are 
very  slow,  especially  in  the  beginning  years,  when  they  are 
making  repairs,  building,  fencing,  perhaps  paying  a  mortgage, 
they  think  that  they  will  never  do  better,  and  they  want  a 
change." 

"  One  danger  in  making  these  changes,"  said  Mrs.  Winton, 
"  is  that  you  throw  away  the  progress  made,  and  the  knowledge 
acquired  in  the  business  already  begun :  when  you  change  you 
go  back  to  the  beginning.  Having  half  learned  farming  does 
not  put  you  half  through  with  the  grocery  business,  but  if  you 
go  into  groceries  you  must  begin  at  the  ABC.  One  business 
does  not  furnish  us  the  alphabet  for  others :  each  has  its  own." 

"  That  fits  our  experience,"  said  Cousin  Ann ;  "  for  the  first 
five  years  that  we  were  on  the  farm,  we  could  not  see  that  we 
had  made  anything  but  our  keep  and  improvements :  we  had 
not  paid  a  dollar  on  the  principal  of  the  mortgage.  But 
though  we  felt  discouraged,  we  looked  at  the  matter  squarely : 
we  had  gained  much  experience;  our  buildings  were  in  order; 
our  fences  were  in  order ;  the  land  was  in  far  better  condition 
than  when  we  got  it ;  our  young  cattle  were  beginning  to  be  of 
value ;  we  were  in  a  much  better  position  to  go  on  and  make 
money  than  when  we  began ;  and,  indeed,  from  that  time  our 
former  work  began  to  tell,  and  we  made  money  fairly  fast. 
Father  has  always  warned  our  boys  not  to  be  changeable.  He 
said  to  Fred  and  Reed,  when  they  thought  they  might  find  a 


r  I 


Sii.' 


I        „i 


m 


400 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


it 


il 


mk. 


more  profitable  way  of  using  their  farms :  '  Don't  change  from 
fruit  and  vegetables  to  sheep.  You  have  been  working  at  the 
fruit  and  vegetables  until  you  understand  them ;  no  one  can 
cheat  you  in  them ;  your  start  is  made ;  you  have  run  for  your 
jump;  your  momentum  is  gained — you  lose  all  that  by  changing. 
Dcn't  ^xy  ^o  turn  your  stock-farm  into  a  sorghum  plantation,  or 
go  into  beet-sugar  or  tobacco.  That  might  all  do  if  you 
started  at  it,  but  you  have  made  your  start  in  another  line: 
you  have  raised  stock ;  studied  stock  ;  arranged  your  farm  for 
stock-raising.  Don't  throw  away  five  years'  work;  stick  to  what 
you  are  at' " 

These  remarks  of  Cousin  Ann  closed  the  conversation  for 
that  time,  but,  a  {q^n  days  after,  Mary  Watkins  came  to  see  me- 
She  said  that  she  had  been  much  struck  with  the  saying, 
"  Debts  shorten  life."  A  debt  made  a  heavy  burden  to  carry, 
and  toil  was  harder  for  such  a  load.  There  was  a  mortgage  on 
their  farm.  She  wanted  some  advice  as  to  how  she  could  help 
pay  it,  and  whether  she  had  better  encourage  her  husband  to 
buy  more  land  under  a  mortgage.  She  said  a  scrap  of  poetry 
kept  ringing  in  her  head — 

"  There  is  no  use  of  talking,  Charles,  you  buy  that  twenty  more, 
And  we'll  go  scrimping  all  our  lives,  and  always  be  land-poor. 
For  thirty  years  we've  tugged  and  toiled,  denying  half  our  needs, 
And  all  we  have  to  show  for  it  is  tax-receipts  and  deeds." 

"  Well,  Mary,"  I  replied,  "  I  cannot  give  you  any  advice 
about  the  purchase  of  land,  for  I  do  not  know  how  you  are 
situated,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  interfere  with  your  business ;  but 
I  can  give  you  a  little  advice  as  to  the  dangers  to  avoid  in  the 
getting  of  money,  which  advice  may  be  of  use  to  you.  As 
debts  do  abridge  life,  avoid  debts  as  you  would  poison  or  con- 
tagion. To  do  this  you  must  live  rigorously  within  your 
means.  To  live  within  our  income,  even  if  it  be  only  by  a  six- 
pence, is  to  escape  the  degradation  of  neediness.     Poverty  is 


' 


'■"*-*i'^m.-^^SBm 


USE  AXD  ABUSE    c.    .\IONEY  IX   THE   HOME. 


401 


ange  from 
ing  at  the 

0  one  can 
n  for  your 
■  changing, 
ntation,  or 
do  if  you 
Dther  line: 
jr  farm  for 
ck  to  what 

rsation  for 
to  see  me- 
le   saying, 

1  to  carry, 
artgage  on 
could  help 
Lusband  to 

of  poetry 


r. 
eds, 


my  advice 
w  you  are 
;incss ;  but 
'joid  in  the 
you.  As 
on  or  con- 
ithin  your 
yr  by  a  siX' 
Poverty  is 


only  relative.  If  you  can  keep  out  of  debt,  you  are  relative!}- 
rich  :  a  man  with  five  thousand  a  year,  who  gets  yearly  two 
hundred  dollars  in  debt,  is  relatively  poor.  When  by  over- 
stepping your  income  you  get  into  debt,  you  purchase  th.-  v.or.;l 
evils  of  poverty — shame  and  fear.  HaUburton  says :  '  Xo  man 
is  rich  whose  expenditures  exceed  his  means,  and  no  man  '':, 
poor  whose  incomings  exceed  his  outgoings.'  Your  first  effort 
in  paying  off  your  mortgage  will  be  to  bring  all  ycur  expenses 
within  your  income,  and  by  all  that  you  bring  them  within  you 
can  lessen  your  indebtedness.  I  .should  wish  to  be  very  sure  of 
the  propriety  of  getting  more  land,  if  I  got  a  new  debt  with  it. 
Again,  Mary,  do  not  be  in  haste  to  be  rich.  This  haste  is  that 
taking  thought  and  care  for  to-morrow  which  the  Scripture  con- 
demns. This  over-zeal  for  riches  abridges  life  as  much  as  debt 
does.  People,  in  their  hurry  for  increase  of  money,  coin  their 
very  lives  and  souls.  All  the  goodness  and  capacity  for  enjoy- 
ment dies  out  of  their  lives  while  they  are  .striving  for  wealth. 
People  in  this  pursuit  of  money  deny  themselves  the  comforti; 
of  life  ;  they  keep  their  children  out  of  school  to  avail  thcrn- 
sclves  of  their  labor ;  they  deny  them  books,  new.spapers, 
society,  decent  clothes ;  they  make  them  feel  shame-faced  and 
mean — all  for  what  ? — to  roll  them  up  a  fortune  which  they 
will  not  be  able  to  enjoy.  They  make  their  children  coarse, 
ignorant,  greedy,  unloving,  in  order  to  have  more  money  to 
leave  them.  But  what  good  will  this  money  do  without  friends, 
without  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the  community?  In  spite 
of  their  money  they  will  see  all  the  prizes  of  life  carried  off  by 
those  whose  parents  were  careful  to  give  them  those  things 
which  are  better  than  money:  /'.  a,  social  qualities,  education, 
good  manners,  affectionate  feelings,  general  information.  In 
over-haste  to  be  rich,  the  energies,  and  sympathies,  and  cares  of 
the  parent  are  withdrawn  from  his  children  to  tlic  money- 
getting.  The  home  devoid  of  attraction  is  a  jail  rather  than  a 
26  • 


\      I 


\\\m 


1    !' 

\ 


\\ 


''i    4 1 


i  s 


HHHHIf  '' 

*'  J         i 

^H^{ 

5                     ! 

402 


THE   COMPLETE   HOME. 


'  dear  nest '  to  the  children.  The  inteicourse  between  them  and 
their  parents  has  been  hard,  brief  and  cold;  there"  is  nothing 
to  regret  in  leaving  them.  No  tendc»'  recollections  of  sunny 
hours,  of  gratified  tastes,  of  mutual  enjoyments,  bind  them  to 
home;  as  soon  a?  they  can  they  fly  off  to  strangers  and  strange 
places,  lacking  that  strongest  tie  to  morality,  a  loving  thought 
of  home.  If  the  children  are  worth  laying  up  money  for,  they 
are  doubly  worth  cultivating  in  all  that  is  best  in  them ;  and  in 
devoting  ourselves  too  intensely  to  the  pursuit  of  riches,  we  for- 
sake the  greater  for  the  less.  DonV,  in  your  desire  to  save  and 
to  earn,  descend  into  meanness.  Avoid  illibcmlity  to  servants,  to 
children,  to  the  public.  As  a  mere  matt«r  of  business,  liberality 
pays  well.  Meanness  hardens  the  heart,  narrows  our  views, 
dries  up  our  social  instincts  :  men  naturally  hate  and  antagonize 
it.  The  child,  treated  illiberally,  loses  love  for  the  parent.  The 
servant,  illiberally  dealt  with,  !-yses  all  zeal  in  service,  has  no 
encouragement  to  render  that  faithfulness  and  energy  which 
are  beyond  all  purchase ;  meanly  treated,  deprived  of  even  just 
gains,  he  retorts  by  doing  for  his  mastc"  as  little  as  he  can. 
Neighbors  miss  the  kind,  neighborly  act;  the  church  commci  ts 
on  lack  of  charity ;  the  dealer  detects  the  scanty  weight,  the 
poor  quality,  the  narrow  bargains ;  and  as  we  sow  we  reap ;  we 
get  baak  our  own  coin,  and  can  ws  complain  if  it  ib  counterfeit, 
or  has  been  clipped?  A  good  deed  done  in  a  kindly  temper  is 
never  thrown  away :  the  bountiful  sowing  makes  the  bountiful 
harvest.  Says  the  Scripture:  'The  liberal  man  deviseth  liberal 
things,  and  by  liberal  things  he  shall  stand.'  We  can  provoke 
unto  love  and  good  works.  In  the  '  Vicar  of  Wakefield ' 
Farmer  Flamborough  grew  rich,  although  he  was  so  honest, 
kind  and  unsuspectitig  that  Mr.  Jcnkinaon  was  always  cheating 
him ;  while  Mr.  Tenkinson,  siirewd  enough,  and  mean  enough 
,  to  cheat,  fell  into  poverty  and  prison.  Bunyan  tells  us  in  a 
little  rhyme: 


!   ' 


USE  AND  ABUSE    OF  MONEY  IN  THE  HOME. 


403 


m  them  and 

is  nothing 
IS  of  sunny 
nd  them  to 
and  strange 
ing  thought 
ley  for,  they 
lem ;  and  in 
hes,  we  for- 

to  save  and 

servants,  to 
3s,  hberality 

our  views, 
1  antagonize 
arent.  The 
"ice,  has  no 
crgy  which 
jf  even  just 

as  he  can-. 
Ii  commei  ts 
weight,  the 
vc  reap ;  we 

counterfeit, 
ly  temper  i« 
lie  bountiful 
iscth  liberal 
:an  provoke 

Wakefield ' 
;  so  honest, 
ys  cheating 
2Ar\  cnoup'h 
.'Us  us  in  a 


••'  There  was  a  man  and  some  did  count  him  mad : 
The  more  he  cast  away,  the  more  he  had ; ' 

and  this  riddle  is  thus  unravelled  : 

"  '  He  who  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor, 
Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more.' 

"Again,  the  wisest  of  men  tells  us  that: '  There  is  that  maketh 
himself  rich,  yet  hath  nothing ;  there  is  that  withholdeth  more 
than  is  meet,  and  it  tendeth  to  poverty.  There  is  that  maketh 
himself  poor,  yet  hath  great  riches.'  A  hard  bargain  is  a  biid 
bargain  for  the  proposer;  he  may  appear  to  gain,  yet  he  will 
eventually  lose.  Be  generous  and  unselfish  in  your  endeavors 
to  accumulate  property ;  if  you  get  it  in  a  mean  way,  you  will 
use  it  in  a  mean  way ;  the  habit  of  meanness  will  be  staovpcd  in 
your  soul,  and  you  will  have  made  money  itself  your  end,  and 
experience  that  love  of  money  which  is  the  root  of  all  evil. 
Nothing  i's  more  unhealthful,  more  life-shortening,  more  aoul- 
cramping,  than  to  be  engrossed  in  money-getting;  the  Mammon 
worshipper  is  a  mean  man.  Milton  tells  us  that  Mammon  him- 
self, in  heaven,  could  not  look  up,  so  fastened  were  his  eyes  on 
the  golden  pavement !  Th<^refore  do  not  consider  accumulation 
your  chief  good.  You  accumulate  in  order  to  strengthen,  pre- 
serve and  improve  the  Home;  therefore  don't  let  your  accu- 
mulating be  the  destroying  of  the  home.  Don't  accumulate  in 
such  a  fashion  that  some  day  j/ou  shall  wake  to  find  your  home 
gone;  its  hopes  perished;  its  loves  dried  in  their  fountains;  the 
children  fled  in  disgust  and  soul-sickness;  your  hopes  of  heaven 
darkened;  God  forgotten;  your  so-called  Home  merely  a  whited 
and  gilded  sepulchre,  full  of  rottenness  and  dead  men's  bones. 
Carry  the  vitality,  the  honpr,  the  joyfulness  of  your  home  on 
wjth  you  in  your  course  of  accumulation. 


story 


Mid 


as  is  a  parable  which  we  should  all  l.-ij/  to  heart.  Remc-iri' 
ber,  Mary,  all  things  arc  for  our  immortal  part;  for  mind;  for 
soul;  the  life  is  more  than  raiment.   What  is  raimejW  to  a  corpse? 


( 

t ) 

t 


Ii 


«v  I'll!' 


!  I'll 

;'  III 


*         ^..^u^. 


'( ;■ 


k    'i 


i  w 


■    , 

i  ! 

i  ii: 

1 

\H 

1 

J     .  ,i 


W^ 


H 

If   ! 

f 

!    1 

hi 

n 

t.                ; 

404 


T//E    COMPLETE  HOME. 


What  is  money  to  him  whose  soul,  body,  heart,  mind,  celestial 
crown,  have  been  sacrificed  to  gain  it?"  .    ' 

"Thank  you,"  said  Mary,  "for  what  you  have  said;  I  think  I 
was  beginning  to  consider  accumulation  a  chief  good,  and  money 
a  chief  end,  instead  of  merely  means  to  the  end  .of  true  home 
building.  I  see  money  is  as  likely  to  be  Abused  as  Used  in  the 
home.  In  the  poem  which  I  quoted  are  two  other  verses  whic^ 
I  remember: 

" '  Our  life  is  short,  and  full  of  care :  the  end  is  always  nigh ; 
We  seldom  half  begin  to  live,  before  we're  doomed  to  die. 
Were  I  to  start  my  life  again,  I'd  mark  each  separate  day. 
And  never  let  a  single  one  pass  imenjoyed  away. 

"  '  If  there  were  things  to  envy,  I'd  have  them  now  and  then. 
And  have  a  home  that  vias  a  home,  and  not  a  cage  or  pen. 
I'd  sell  some  land,  if  it  -were  mine,  and  fit  up  well  the  rest ; 
I've  always  thought,  and  think  so  yet — small  farms,  well  worked,  are  best.** 

I  fancy  Mary  persuaded  her  husband  to  her  view,  for  thejr 
did  not  buy  more  land  for  some  time. 

The  day  that  brings  us  iAto  debt  is  a  dark  day;  that  is  a  light 
day — glad  as  the  going  out  of  Egypt — when  one  gets  out  of 
debt.  I  was  at  Cousin  Ann's  one  day,  when  she  read  a  little  bit 
of  poetry  called  "  No  Mortgage  on  the  Farm,"  from  the  village 
paper.  She  said  she  appreciated  it  from  her  own  experience; 
she  remembered  it  was  a  glad  day  when  Reuben  paid  off  the  last 
dollar  of  the  mortgage,  and  though  years  had  passed,  the  joy 
was  yet  fresh  in  her  mind: 

"While  our  hearts  are  now  so  joyful,  let  us,  Mary,  not  forget 
To  thank  the  God  of  heaven  for  being  out  of  debt ; 
For  he  gave  the  rain  anjl  sunshine,  and  put  strength  into  my  arm. 
And  lengthened  out  the  daiys  to  see,  No  Mortgage  on  the  Farm !  " 

"  If  any  one  can  tell  us  v/hat  is  a  right  state  of  mind  in  regard 
to  Money  in  the  Home,  I  think  you  can,  cousin,"  I  replied,  "for 
you  have  had  a  larga  family  for  which  to  provide ;  you  have  had 
your  narrow  beginnings;  your  long  days  of  struggle  to  free 


I 


USE  AND  ABUSE    OF  MONEY  IN   T/IE  IIOAfE. 


408 


yourselves  from  debt;  the  constant,  daily,  arising  needs  to  meet; 
and  have  at  last  reached  a  time  when  means  arc  comfortably 
abundant." 

"The  main  thing  is,"  replied  Cousin  Ann,  "to  keep  in  view 
that  \vc  are  getting  the  money  not  for  itself,  but  for  the  goodi 
which  it  will  secure ;  therefore  we  must  be  on  the  watch  to  take 
the  good  as  it  comes.     We  may  say  we  are  laying  up  the  for- 
tunes and  securing  the  happiness  of  our  children,  but  we  must 
remember  that  childhood  has  its  fortunes  and  its  happiness  as 
well  as  middle-life.     Why  deny  our  children  the  happiness  and 
fortune  of  a  few  toys,  in  order  that  we  may  add  dollars  to  other 
dollars  for  their  future?     The  few  toys  may  let  in  a  whole  flood 
of  sunshine  on  the  child's  life.     How  do  we  know  but  they  will 
be  all  the  fortune  that  we  can  give  it— ^that  the  little  child  may 
never  grow  up  to  claim  its  portion  of  goods — that  all  our  be- 
stowal of  fortune  on  it  must  be  limited  to  a  doll,  a  tin-cart,  and 
a  yard  of  daisied  sod?     We  deny  the  little  girl  a  doll  and  play- 
time, and  she  prematurely  becomes  a  hard-faced  woman  who 
i»ever  had  a  chilH'-uod.     I  have  seen  men  who  begrudged  the 
time  which  they  said  their  wives  wasted  over  a  stand  of  flowers; 
men  who  complained  that  a  few  pots  of  geraniums  and  verbenas 
cost  too  much  ;  if  their  wives  wanted  flowers  let  them  wait  until 
they  were  rich,  and  they  should  have  a  garden  full,  or  a  hot- 
house.    But  the  wife  died  long  before  riches  came,  and  flowers 
in  plenty  went  into  her  coffin  and  upon  her  grave ;  it  would  have 
done  her  flir  more  good  if  they  had  been  put  into  her  living 
hands ! 

"A  very  little  outlay  will  often  procure  for  some  member  of 
our  families  some  gratification  of  taste,  which  will  be  richly 
repaid  in  love  and  happiness.  Besides,  we  sometimes  forget  that 
these  small  gratifications  have  a  positive  effect  on  health  and 
spirits,  renewing  both,  and,  in  very  truth,  producing  a  better 
return  in  money  and  saving  than  almost  any  other  outlay.     The 


I ; 


'  -m, 


;n 


i  i 


ii'j!i 

[| 

iii^  •■ 

406 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


little  token  of  thoughtfulness,  of  kindly  remembrance,  renews 
the  courage— reminds  one  how  much  there  is  yet  left  to  live  for. 
We  must  know  when  to  spare  and  when  to  spend.  It  is  not 
well  to  have  all  the  scrimping  and  saving  done  in  one  series  of 
years,  looking  to  have  all  the  lavishing  done  in  another  decade. 
We  must  save  and  spend  at  the  same  time  ;  pay  as  we  go,  and 
build  up  our  home  in  taste,  in  comfort,  in  intelligence,  in  propor- 
tion as  we  are  building  it  up  in  fortune." 

"And  when  we  are  speaking  of  the  use  of  money  in  the  home, 
we  must  not  forget,"  I  said,  "that  while  one  form  of  its  abuse  ia 
in  pcnuriousness,  another  form  of  abuse  is  lavishness.     Children 
get  too  much  money  to  spend  whach  they  never  earned,  and  of 
which  they  do  not  know  the  value.     I  heard  of  a  man  who  said 
that  he  just  put  some  money  in  a  drawer,  and  let  his  children  go 
there  and  help  themselves.     There  would  be  account-keeping, 
saving,  good  judgment,  when  all  the  youngsters  had  to  do  was 
to  get  out  the  money  and  use  it,  and  no  questions  asked !     I 
have  seen  a  child  of  ten,  going  off  for  a  three  days'  visit,  handed 
five  dollars  to  buy  candy  and  nuts.     A  ycjng  school-mate  of 
Miriam's  was  so  liberally  supplied  with  pocket-money  that  she 
really  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.     One  day  she  bought  a 
dollar's  worth  of  candy ;  then  opening  the  paper,  and  findmg  the 
first  bit  flavored  with  peppermint,  a  thing  which  she  disliked, 
she  tossed  the  whole  parcel  into  the  mud  of  the  street.     Another 
girl  whom  I  knew,  received  from  home  a  pair  of  pretty  ornanu-nts 
which  cost  ten  dollars ;  she  wore  tiiem  a  day  or  two,  then  pre- 
sented one  to  her  room-mate,  and  the  next  week  lost  the  other. 
Girls  thus  recklessly  given  dress  and  spending  money  arc  really 
driven  into  extravagance,  and  arc  at  last  the  women  whose  hus- 
bands  become  bankrupts,  defaulters,  suicides.     Boys  who  may 
lavishly  spend  money  out  of  the  paternal  pocket  learn  to  smoke, 
dnnk,  play  cards,  race  hor3C;i:  they  apply  themselves  to  no 
useful  occupation,  have  no  high  principles,  learn  nothing  whick 


USE  AND  ABUSE    OF  MONEY  IN   THE  HOME. 


407 


shall  make  them  self-dependent.  Money  which  comes  to  young 
people  so  easily,  of  whose  bitter  earning  they  know  nothing,  of 
whose  deprivation  they  know  nothing,  is  a  snare  and  a  ciiisc. 
Better  the  chances  of  the  little  bootblack  earning  his  dimes,  and 
respecting  them  as  proceeds  of  his  labor ;  better  a  million  times 
the  farm-boy,  whose  dollar  represents  the  potatoes  he  planted 
and  dug,  or  the  chickens  he  fed  and  tended  for  a  six  months, 
than  the  boy  who  gets  his  twenty  or  fifty  dollars,  to  spend 
unquestioned,  and  to  whom  that  money  is  just  so  much  green 
paper  out  of  father's  pocket. 

"  Children  should  be  taught  to  earn  money  ;  to  save  reasonably 
their  money;  to  spend  it  judiciously;  to  give  out  of  their  own 
funds,  not  merely  going  to  father  with  the  cry,  '  Give  me  a  cent 
for  contribution!'  and  then  putting  it  in  the  box,  and  calling  it 
their  own  giving:  shall  we  give  of  that  which  costs  us  nothing? 
Children  should  be  taught  to  take  care  of  their  money,  not 
losing  it  heedlessly  here  and  there,  laying  it  down  and  forgetting 
where  they  put  it ;  so  they  should  be  instructed  to  keep  accounts  ; 
this  forms  the  habit  of  method  and  of  reasoning  in  their  busi- 
ness: the  spendthrift  boy  will  be  the  spendthrift  man. 

"Another  abuse  of  money  in  the  home  is  to  keep  all  the  money 
for  that  one  home  and  its  needs  and  luxuries,  forgetting  that 
the  one  home  is  but  a  unit  among  many;  that  as  we  are  human, 
humanity  has  its  claims  on  us  all;  that  in  the  civilized  state 
every  man  is  more  or  less  dependent  on  his  neighbor,  and  must 
do  a  share  for  others  while  he  is  working  for  himself  There  arc 
human  beings  without  homes ;  human  beings  sunk  .so  in  degra- 
dation, so  steeped  in  indigence,  that  knowledge  and  means 
of  home-making  are  out  of  their  reach ;  there  are  in  the  world 
plenty  of  stray  waifs,  childless,  widowed  women,  relationlcss  men, 
friendless  children,  hopeless  invalids  :  for  these  society  nui.st  make 
hQm!^s  and  pr=v,.idc  teachers  and  refuges.  One  of  the  abu.ses  of 
our  money  is  to  gather  it  all  into  our  own  circle,  centre  it  ujion 


W 


w 


I 


r-ii 


mii 


iliiS^' 


II 


] 


if 


408 


rj/£   COMPLETE   HOME. 


ourselves,  desire  to  surfeit  our  own  appetites,  to  crowd  our 
own  lives  with  pleasures,  ant!  our  own  homes  with  luxuries,  and 
refusing  to  distribute  as  we  liavc  opportunity  to  those  who  are 
in  need.  A  grand  use  of  money  in  the  home  is  to  give  us  to 
taste  the  blessedness  of  doing  good.  The  hundred  busy  hands 
which  have  gathered  in  the  fortune  should  be  ready  to  com- 
municate ;  the  hundred  eyes  which  have  looked  for  opportunities 
of  increasing  our  store  should  look  wisely  abroad,  to  .see  what 
fields  can  be  watered  by  it,  what  waste  places  sown,  what  deserts 
made  to  become  gardens. 

"And  here,  as  said  our  minister  the  other  day,  arises  the  much 
vexed  question:  'How  much  have  we  a  right  to  use  for  selves? 
What  is  a  rational  and  proper  style  of  living  for  a  Christian? 
And  to  this  it  can  only  be  answered  that  every  man  is  a  law  to 
himself     If  no  one  used  any  luxuries,  trade,  and  manufacture, 
and  invention  would  be  at  once  crippled.     He  who  has  many 
servants,  justly  treated,  wi.sely  governed,  before  whom  he  sets  a 
right  example,  makes  his  home  a  home  to  many,  supports  just 
•so   many  more    of  his    fellows.      M„re    physical    luxuries   are 
needed  by  some  than  by  others :  one  man's  nature  only  gets  its 
development  in  a   great    library;   pictures   are   another   man's 
natural  mind-food ;  let  him  thank  Cod  for  money  to  buy  them, 
and  so  support  artists.     The  only  thing  needful  is  to  realize  that 
in  our  money  we  are  God's  stewards  and  our  brother's  keepers. 
Ix-t  us  feel  that  in  earning,  in  keeping,  in  spending  our  money 
we  are  those  who  must  give  account.     And  so  as  Bacon  warns 
us,  let  us  not  ha.sten  so  to  be  rich  that  we  cannot  get  honestly ; 
let  us  not  so  spend  our  pos.sessions  on  ourselves  that  we  cannot 
give  liberally;  let  us  not  love  our  means  so  well  that  we  cannot 
spend  cheerfully ;  let  us  not  spend  so  recklessly  that  we  begin 
to  live  .selfishly  and  greedily ;   let   us  not  love  money  so  well 
that  wc  will  be  loath  to  leave  this  world  because  of  leaving 
our  worldly  belongings  ;  and  let  us  profess  no  scorn  of  money 


USE  AND  ABUSE    OF  MONEY  IN  THE  HOME.  409 

like  that  professed  by  the  begging  friars,  who,  be  it  remarked, 
W'^re  always  especially  eager  in  getting ! 

"And  here  I  would  only  add  a  few  monitions  which  I 
impressed  on  Helen's  little  Tom. 

"  If  men  are  to  hate  debt,  boys  must  hate  debt ;  let  them  be 
taught  not  to  borrow,  and  not  to  beg :  it  is  training  a  boy  in 
pauperism  to  allow  him  to  hint  or  boldly  ask  for  money  from 
guests  and  relations. 

"  If  the  man  is  to  be  upright  in  business,  the  boy  must  be 
upright.  Do  not  think  it  is  no  matter  if  you  neglect  to  return 
your  mother's  change ;  if  you  take,  half  by  force  or  by  calm 
assumption,  your  little  sister's  or  brother's  money.  Boys  who 
act  in  this  way  will  not  be  honorable  business  men. 

"  Don't  be  a  boy-miser — hoarding  your  own  money,  never 
jnak-'r-  ..  present,  never  giving  in  charity  of  your  own,  always 
<;■  receive  and  never  ready  to  give. 

lake  a  pride  in  earning  money:  you  will  respect  money 
more,  and  be  more  likely  to  be  honest  in  your  dealings,  if  you 
have  learned  how  to  earn  money  for  yourself 

"  Don't  make  hard  bargains  w  ith  your  mates,  taking  advan- 
tage of  their  need  or  of  their  ignorance. 

"  Don't  be  lavish,  spending  to  make  the  other  boys  stare, 
buying  things  which  you  do  not  need  merely  to  show  off. 
Remember  the  boy  is  what  the  man  will  be." 


..I 


»    ( 


li  J  i 


!■! 


1} 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

ATTENTION   TO   DRESS    IN   THE    HOME. 
AUNT  SOPHRONIA's    IDEA   OF   TASTE   AND   FITNESS   IN   DRESS. 

ELINDA  BLACK  came  in  to  see  me  one  autumn  morn- 
ing ;  she  often  drops  in,  but  that  day  she  came  espe- 
cially because  she  had  on  a  new  Fall  suit.     Whenever 
Belinda  has  a  new  gown,  she  is  seized  with  a  mania 
for  wolking  through  all  the  streets,  and  for  visiting  her  friends 
until  all  have  had  a  view  of  the  new  apparel.     Indeed,  she  takes 
a  bland,  innocent,  unconcealed  delight  in  new  clothes,  a  delight 
which  has  so  much  childish  simplicity  in  it  that  it  is  mainly 
amusing.    And  yet  Belinda  is  quite  old  enough  to  be  reasonable; 
a  great  many  women  never  do  become  reasonable  on  the  subject 
of  dress.     Well,  as  I  said,  in  came  Belinda,  and  chatted  away, 
careful  that  she  sat  in  a  good  light  and  in  an  advantageous 
position  to  display  her  last  dress.     I  chanced  to  ask  her  why 
she  had  not  been  in  her  place  as  one  of  the  sub-teachers  in  a 
class  for  sewing,  which  I  have  for  poor  children,  and  she  said 
that  just  at  that  hour  she  had  an  engagement  with  the  dress- 
maker, and  so  forgot.     "  That  is  it,  you  see,"  said  Belinda,  with 
a  little  laugh,  "  the  dress-maker  puts  everything  else  out  of  my 
foolish  head ;  I  suppose  I  am  even  worse  than  other  people  in 
that  folly  ;  but  we  all  think  too  much  about  dress,"  concludes  Be- 
linda in  a  judicial  tone,  while  secretly  smoothing  out  a  ruffle  and 
regarding  the  trin.ming  on  her  sleeve  with  great  complacency. 
"I    differ   from   you,    indeed,"    I    replied;   "I    conclude    the 

trouble  is  that  wc  do  not  //tifd-  half  enough  about  our  dress  " 

(410) 


« 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE   HOME. 


411 


IN   DRESS, 


"Oh,  Miss  Sophronia!"  cried  Belinda,  "I  thought  it  was  a 
waste  of  time  and  a  token  of  a  weak  mind  to  think  of  dress." 

"  It  depends  entirely  upon  how  you  think  of  it,  my  dear.  In 
the  way  of  imagination,  I  grant  you,  we  may  think  a  deal  too 
much  about  it;  in  the  way  of  reason  and  common-sense, 
generally  not  half  enough.  As  to  weak  minds  only  occupying 
themselves  with  this  matter,  some  of  the  very  finest  minds  have 
lent  themselves  to  its  consideration.  The  Bible  itself  gives  us 
various  rules  about  it ;  great  legislators  have  passed  laws  concern- 
ing it ;  physicians  have  written  much  on  the  subject ;  and  divines 
have  preached  sermons  and  written  books,  also,  about  it." 

"Why,"  says  Belinda,  opening  wide  her  eyes,  "I  did  not 
know  that  the  Bible  had  anything  about  dress,  unless  you  mean 
about  the  fig-leaf  aprons,  or  how  the  Lord  made  Adam  and 
Eve  coats  of  skins — Eve  must  have  been  very  beautiful  to  stand 
such  dressing  as  that  without  a  ribbon  or  a  bit  of  lace— or 
perhaps  you  mean  about  the  priest's  dress  as  we  had  it  once  in 
our  Sunday-school  lesion." 

"  I  meant  none  of  those.  I  fear  you  have  never  read  your 
Bibls  through,  my  child." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  ;  straight  through,  and  got  five  dollars  for 

it." 

"  Then,  while  you  were  going  through  it,  I  fear  the  five  dol- 
lars must  have  been  more  in  your  mind  than  what  you  were 
reading.  Read  it  through  again,  Belinda ;  not  for  five  dollars,  but 
for  the  sake  of  knowing  what  is  in  it.  However,  I  will  tell  you 
what  it  says  of  dress :  Isaiah  says,  '  Because  the  daughters  of 
Zion  are  haughty,  the  Eord  will  take  away  the  bravery  of  their 
tinkling  ornaments,  and  their  cauls,  and  their  round  tires  like 
the  moon,  the  chains,  and  the  bracelets,  and  the  mufflers ;  the 
bonnets,  and  the  ornaments,  and  the  head-bands,  and  the  tablets, 
and  the  car-rings,  and  the  rings,  and  tlie  iiosc-jcwcls ,  the 
changeable  suits  of  apparel,  the  mantles,  and  the  wimples,  and 


A.     1 

m 


\,r\-f  t,.  .*:«■ 


412 


rifE   COMPLETE  HOME 


"'^■'  -e  wore  so  old  fal'        ,  """"°°' '     '  <'"'  ""'  ='-»n, 

-  ".ink.  .„ :, ;:  ;t: rirr "'rr '"'  ^^-^  --^ 

Karsago!    As  for  the  „'„  '"-"'y-"''-  or  four  lumdrcd 

.-.nd ...  ..l,;;s:.t;c;„!'t:,;"°^"^=°''°='^- 

"giy  too,  for  if  one  ,/xs  ,„™d        ,  "  »""'"'=-"'°S'=  «■"'<*  be 

.iass,o,K.  docs  notwa:rlVI:;'"^'  '°°''"^'  '"  *= 
bo  doing  i,  i„  p„y,.,  .,  """'''  '°  '<»<=>"  ".  nor  wish  ,o 

^^^:?rwr:r:,r '■"  "-^  -"■  ""■= ^'--  -  ■■-  "■^■ 

in.o.be™-sayatcWh'.    '^^^^^^°''  '"'  -''"io-.y  gating 

fansr/;:::':,,!:::!:^'"::'':^' ■■''■"=  °-  -^  *-  -r, 
'"  ^"  p-:a:::t  o"  rgrr^^^'^'''"*"-" 

-ver  before  .„o„gb.  how  ..g,  ■     !  7  fh'""''     '^^  """^^  ' 

vcUs,  head-dresses,  braccic  "and  ::,efs,:  :r^' °'' '  *'■"• 
Parucs,  to  put  dow„  our  partners  on  .     Who  d  T  "7  '° 

.    "Another  pr.„he.  complains  of    l,e  wo  ''"'■"'"" " 
into  the  sleeve,  oftheir  dresses."  "'"»  P'"°"^ 

"How  hideous!"  cried  Behndi      "  M 
»uch  a  fashion  now-a-days,  °"=  ""'''''  """''  »' 

"  I  -should  not  lik-p  fr.  k,. 
not  think  of     B„,  tr^',,  ""'"'^  "-'  '"  -"«  Wly  one  would 
-1  a  pair  of  ,i,.,e     i,L  '  ^^  'j--'^  '  ^--^r  .e^ 
bad,  and  which  she  told  „,  '  ""''"''  '">'  "'<"'"='• 

lays,  fastened  in  tL  u^c   :::7,r7  '"  ""  ^"^"'  "'"*<' 

»ct  out  widely.     Thev  raav  c  r         '"'•  '"  '"""'  "'=  ""■»    > 

.,  ,.  ,  '^         '^>  "'ay  ramo  m  Cishion  .i„ain  •■ 

I  Soever  wear  the„,-„ever,"  protested  a°h„d. 


&ik 


■i«!:it 


ATTENTION    TO   DRESS  IN  THE   NOME. 


413 


,  and  the  hoods, 

t  a  quantity  of 
I  did  not  dream 
nd  styles ;  only 
r  four  hundred 
blessing  to  lose 
glasses  to  carry 
aists,  made  of 
lose   zuouM  be 
ooking  in  the 
t,  nor  wish  to 

5SCS  set  in  the 
lously  gazing 

>f  those  very 
iit  looking  in 
go  home;  I 
^  odd !  rings. 
we  carry  to 
■hought  it!" 
ing  pillows 

d  think  of 

one  would 
-mber  very 
iiy  mother 
y  married 
-  the  arms    '• 


"  I  used  to  hear  people  say,  in  looking  at  the  portraits  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  where  her  majesty's  waist  and  head  look  as 
if  rising  out  of  a  hogshead — wherein  she  is  standing,  that  if 
hoops  came  in  fashion  again,  they  would  never  wear  them,  and 
yet  they  did,  great  rccd-fiUcd  skirts,  as  big  as  hogsheads,  or 
even  bigger ;  absurd  as  Queen  Elizabeth's." 

"  I  suppose,"  responded  Belinda,  meekly,  "  that  there  is  no 
telling  what  one  will  do,  when  a  fashion  comes  in.  What  is 
there  more  in  the  Bible  about  dress  ?  " 

"  Paul  writes  in  2d  Timothy :  '  that  women  adorn  themselves 
in  modest  apparel,  not  with  broidered  hair,  or  gold,  or  pearls, 
or  costly  array.'  "  , 

"  Why,"  said  Belinda,  argumentatively,  "  one  would  not  want 
their  hair  hanging  straight  behind  their  ears  like  a  wild  Indian's  : 
and  I  can't  see  wha*  harm  there  is  in  gold,  or  pearls,  or  costly 
dress." 

"  I  do  not  fancy  that  Paul  v/ould  have  approved  of  the  wild 
Indian  style  of  hair-dressing.  You  notice  he  says  adorn,  which 
suggests  that  he  desired  neatness  and  good  taste,  with  a  certain 
gravity  and  simplicity ;  and  as  he  suggests  good  works  instead 
of  the  gold  or  pearls,  or  costly  array,  I  presume  that  he  meant  to 
hint  that  as  there  is  so  much  poverty  and  pain  in  the  world  to  be 
relieved,  so  much  ignorance  to  be  instructed,  so  many  .souls 
which  need  a  preached  gospel,  and  so  much  money  required,  to 
feed  the  hungry,  clothe  the  naked,  nurse  the  sick,  and  send  the 
teachers  to  those  who  sit  in  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death, 
that  the  means  of  a  Christian  woman  might  far  better  be  employed 
thus  in  behalf  of  doing  good,  and  laying  up  treasure  in  heaven, 
than  in  procuring  gold,  pearls,  or  costly  array.  As  to  the  hair, 
you  will  see  yourself,  Belinda,  that  there  is  a  vast  difference 
between  dragging  it  negligently  into  a  tumble-down  knot,  and 
puffing  it,  stuffing  it,  giving  here  a  friz,  there  a  braid,  there  a 
ringlet,  there  a  plastered   curl,  there  a  braid  of  another  .-^tylii, 


m 


M., 


.i  till 


•^ ffiirirfii  ■! 


mJ. 


411 


riTE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


that  excessively  ornate  method  of  h:ur-dressing  which  is  not  for 
elegant  comfort,  but  is  for  attracting  attention-that.  attention 
not  the  loving  pleasure  of  our  friends,  but  the  insolent  stare  of 
passers  on  the  street." 

"Now,"  said  Belinda,  uneasily,  as  she  was  not  without  fault 
in  this  respect, "  what  do  some  of  those  wise,  good  people-those 
divines,  for  instance— say  about  dress  ?  " 

I  took  down  one  of  my  "old-fashioned  boofe  "  and  read  a 
fragment  from  good   Bishop   Hal.     "  In  thy  apparel  avoid  pro- 
fuseness,  singularity,  and  gaudiness;  let  it  be  decent,  and  suited 
to  the  quality  of  thy  place  and  purse.     Too  much  punctuality, 
and  too  much  moroseness,  are  the  extremes  of  pride.    Be  neither 
tod  early  in  the  fashion,  nor  too  long  out  of  it,  nor  too  precisely 
mit.     What  custom  hath  civilized  hath  become  decent;  until 
then  it  was  ridiculous.     Where  the  eye  is  the  jury,  the  apparel 
IS  the  evidence ;  the  body  is  the  shell  of  the  soul ;  apparel  is  the 
husk  of  the  shell,  and  the  husk  will  often  tell  you  what  the 
kernel    is.     Seldom   does   solid  wisdom  dwell    under  fantastic 
apparel ;    neither  will   the  jester  fancy   be   inured   within    the 
walls  of  a  grave  habit.     The  clown  is   known  by  his  motley 
coat."  ^ 

"Why,  how  simple,  easy,  and  full  of  common-sense,  that 
sounds ! "  said  Belinda.  "  I  wi,sh  folks  preached  like  that  nowa- 
days :  I  would  learn  so  much  more  than  I  do." 

"Would  you?  Now  tell  me,  what  was  our  minister's  text 
yesterday,  and  whal  was  his  subject?" 

"  Why-y_y_I  don't  believe  I  know.  In  fact,  I  was  looking 
most  of  die  time  at  Grace  Winton's  new  bonnet,  aad  at  Mrs. 
Burr's  lovely  new  tie." 

"Then  perhaps  our  minister  was  giving  us  just  as  simple 
common-sense  as  Bishop  Hall,  and  you  missed  it;  and  if  you 
had  been  one  of  Bishop  Hall's  hc^arers  vou  might  have  been 
coneidering  the  extent  of  somebody's  farthingale,  or  the  velvet 


ATTENTION  TO   DRESS   IN  THE   HOME. 


ich  is  not  for 
hat- attention 
)lent  stare  of 

vithout  fault 
iople — those 

'  and  read  a 
1  avoid  pro- 
t,  and  suited 
punctuality, 
Be  neither 
30  precisely 
ecent;  until 
the  apparel 
)parel  is  the 
u  what  the 
er  fantastic 
within   the 
his  motley 

sense,  that 
;hat  now-a- 

istcr's  text 

'as  looking 
id  at  Mrs. 

as  simple 
md  if  you 
riavc  Dccfi 
the  velvet 


415 


in  their  mantle.  The  fault  is  less  in  the  words  of  preachers  than 
in  the  ears  of  hearers." 

I  suppose  Belinda  concluded  that  she  had  had  instruction 
enough  for  that  morning,  so  she  soon  went  home.  She  did  not 
forget  our  talk,  however,  but  at  the  next  Sewing  Society  detailed 
much  of  it  to  the  roomful  of  young  people  who  were  working 
together  in  Mrs.  Burr's  back  parlor;  and  just  as  I  had  finished 
distributing  the  work  to  the  seniors  in  the  front  room,  Grace 
Winton  called  me. 

"Aunt  Sophronia,  you  are  to  come  and  sit  with  us,  and  answer 
for  this  new  heresy  you  have  been  inculcating  in  Belinda  Black. 
She  says  you  have  absolutely  been  warning  her  that  she  ought 
to  think  more  about  dress;  that  we  all  ought." 

I  went  in  with  a  child's  apron  which  I  was  making. 

"  You  all  think  too  much  about  dress  in  the  way  of  imagina- 
tion," I  said. 

"  There,  Belinda ! "  cried  Cousin  Ann's  younger  daughter :  "  I 
was  quite  sure  that  you  were  mistaiken." 

"  For  instance,"  I  continued,  "  you  spend  hours  in  considering 
how  you  would  look  in  a  new  walking-suit,  or  which  of  the  new 
colors  is  most  stylish,  and  would  best  suit  your  complexion. 
You  spend  whole  days  in  trying  to  arrange  a  dress  for  a  party — 
a  dress  which  shall  be  just  a  little  prettier  than  any  one  else 
would  have ;  you  spend  all  church  time  wondering  how  you 
would  look  in  somebody's  new  hat ;  you  spend  on  new  trinkets, 
which  you  do  not  need,  the  money  whicli  you  ought  to  give  to 
the  Missionary  Society;  you  spend  on  over-doing  your  hair,  time 
when  you  ought  to  be  helping  your  mothers  with  the  mending ; 
you  stay  away  from  prayer-mr  ting  to  embroider  you  a  jacket, 
or  put  another  ruffle  on  a.  petticoat ;  you  tease  your  fathers  for 
more  money  than  they  can  afford  to  spend  on  your  winter  outfit, 
and  you  coolly  let  your  mother  wear  her  old  cait  oi.c  winter 
more,  so  that  you  can  spend  more  aioney  on  the  decorating  of 
erne  of  your  gowns." 


!»■         I  !i 


416 


7//£    COMPLEIE   HOME. 


i  '1. 


"Oh,  now,  Aunt  Sophronia!"  cried  the  girls,  indignantly. 

"  Well,  I  knew  a  girl  once  who  insisted  on  having  One  more 
dress  in  her  winter  outfit,  although  she  knew  that  if  it  wcr« 
bought,  her  mother,  instead  of  buying  for  herself  one  new  and 
iiandsome  dress,  would  be  forced  to  get  a  very  shabby  thing  for 
her  only  new  gown ;  and  yet  this  girl  needed  the  ext.a  dress  so 
little,  that  in  packing  up  h^r  trunk  for  school,  she  absolutely 
forgot  it,  and  left  it  hanging  in  the  closet,  where  it  hung  until 
after  Christmas." 

"  Now,  Aunt  Sophronia,"  .said  Grace  Winton,  energetically, 
"  that  was  as  much  the  mother's  fault  as  the  girl's ;  no  mot)  jr 
should  be  so  weakly  yielding,  should  so  pander  to  the  selfish- 
ncss  of  her  child ;  she  should  have  brought  her  up  better." 

"  No  doubt,  Grace ;  however,  this  girl  did  not  live  here  in  our 
town.  Let  me  proceed  to  observe  to  you,  that  you  do  not  think 
half  enough  about  your  dress — " 

"  There !  what  did  I  tell  you  !  "  cried  Belinda. 
"  In  the  way  of  reason  and  common-sense.     It  is  our  duty  to 
think  about  our  dress ;  to  apply  some  of  our  very  best  thoughts 
to  it.     Ne.xt  to  the  question  of  food,  that  of  dress  is  the  most 
important  of  physical  questions  which  can  be  put  to  us.     On  our 
proper  dressing  much  of  our  good  health  depends;  if  we  do  not 
have  good  health,  we  cannot  have  our  brains  in  the  best  work- 
ing order;  we  shall  be  also  captious,  selfish,  exacting,  fretful, 
desponding ;  demanding  much  of  others,  and  able  to  do  little 
for  them.     He  who  is  an  invalid,  in   God'.-?  providence,  is  filling 
some  niche  made  for  him,  and  performing  some  part  in  creation; 
a  part  which  may  in  the  revealings  of  the  next  world  shine  out 
very  beautifully ;   but  those  who  are  invalids  in  virtue  of  their 
own  folly,  of  their  own  disregard   for  plain  laws  of  health,  are 
leaving  undone  the  work  which  God  meant  them  to  do,  and  are 
adding  to  the  burdens  of  humanity.     If  you  admit  that  health  is. 
a  m*ter  of  high  importance,  you  must  admit  that  the  question 


lantly. 
one  more 
if  it  wcr« 
ic  new  and 
y  thing  for 
■a  dress  so 
absolutely 
lung  until 

rrgetically, 
lo  mot)  jr 
he  selfish- 
tter." 

ere  in  our 
not  think 


IT  duty  to 
thoughts 
the  most 
On  our 
ve  do  not 
est  work- 
g,  fretful, 
•  do  little 
is  filling 
creation ; 
shine  out 
:  of  their 
ealth,  are 
>,  and  arc 
health  is 
qucstibn 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME.  417 

of  dress,  which  so  much  concerns  that  of  health,  is  also  very 
important.     Therefore  we  must  think  about  dress  as  it  concerns 
health.     But  we  may  also  see  the  question  of  dress  lifted  out  of 
the  range  of  the  merely  physical  and  put  into  the  domain  of 
morals.    We  are  bound  to  think  about  dress  as  it  concerns  Imt- 
esty-hon^sty  to  God  and  to  our  neighbor.     Another  way  in 
which  we  are  to  think  about  dress  is  as  it  concerns  charity.    Now 
if  you  faithfully  debate  with  yourselves  the  question  of  dress  as 
it  has  to  do  with  health,  honesty,  and  charity,  and  you  uprightly 
carry  out  the  convictions  of  duty  at  which  you  arrive,  I  think 
there  will  thereafter  be  no  fault  to  be  found  with  your  dress,  and 
that  for  thinking  about  it  you  will  be  more  attractive  in  your- 
selves,  more  helpful  in  your  homes,  and  more  useful  to  the  world 
at  large." 

"Shall  we  begin  by  disregarding  fashions?"  asked  Grace. 
"That  old  preacher  from  whom   you  read  said  not,"  said 
Belinda. 

"  Fashion  must  be  brought  to  the  bar  of  common-sense,  and 
must  be  tried  by  the  laws  of  health,  honesty  and  charity;  if  she 
has  transgressed  none  of  these,  in  a  new  device,  then  she  has  a 
right  to  promulgate  it." 

"  But  I  thought  dress  was  a  more  matter  of  good  taste," 
observed  the  eldest  Miss  Black. 

"  Good  taste  will  be  secured  when  we  meet  the  requirements 
of  health,  honesty  and  charity." 

"  Do  you  think,"  asked  Miss  Black,  "that  it  is  a  sin  to  wear 
ear-rings?"  * 

"  Not  a  sin,"  I  replied,  "if  they  are  paid  for.  But  I  do  not 
think  that  they  are  in  good  taste." 

"And  in  what  respects  not  ?  " 

"  First,  they  are  a  relic  of  barbarism,  which  pierces  the  flesh 
to  introduce  ornaments.  The  grossest  form  of  this  injury  of  the 
body  to  ornament  it,  is  in  tattooing.     Next,  the  piercing-  the  ear 


I,  jfe 


418 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


n 

.      ! 

i 

1  11 

It 

t  1 

1 

\        : 

'. 

i 

\     \ 


\\  I 


il! 


ijL.^'1 


all  around  its  rim,  piercing  the  nose  and  the  lips  to  introduce 
rings  or  bars  of  jewelry — indeed,  the  fashion  described  by  some 
African  travellers,  of  stretching  the  lips  entirely  out  of  shape  for 
rings  and  bars  of  metal,  must  be  more  hideous  than  any 
tattooing.  Second,  if  the  ear  is  beautifully  made  in  itself,  it  is 
an  ornament  to  the  human  head,  which  will  only  be  marred  by 
piercing  it:  the  ring  will  injure  its  shape  or  otherwise  detract 
from  its  beauty.  Third,  if  the  ear  is  less  than  perfect  in  its 
shape,  then  the  ring  simply  attracts  attention  to  its  lack  of 
beauty.  If  there  is  any  coarseness  in  the  skin,  or  lack  of  grace 
in  contour,  then  the  jewelry  makes  this  more  apparent;  while 
if  complexion  and  outline  are  perfect,  then  'beauty  unadorned 
is  adorned  the  most ; '  anything  violently  intruded  upon  them, 
as  the  cutting  of  the  flesh  for  the  reception  of  a  bauble,  takes 
away  something  of  their  perfections.  It  is  said  that  the  Chapel 
of  the  De  Medicean  Tombs,  in  Florence,  is  more  beautiful 
than  beauty;  if  that  is  true  in  that  case,  it  is  in  no  other." 

"Aunt  Sophronia,"  said  Grace,  "we  are  always  quarrelling 
here,  in  a  mild  way,  about  frizzes.     Do  settle  that  for  us." 

"  If  I  settled  it  for  you  to-day,  you  would  be  all  back  to  your 
own  opinions  to-morrow.  However,  I  am  quite  ready  to  give 
you  my  views  as  to  hair-dressing  in  general.  First,  then,  great 
neatness  should  be  observed  in  regard  to  the  hair.  Nature 
intended  it  as  an  ornament.  It  is  several  times  mentioned  in 
the  Bible  as  a  rare  beauty.  All  the  painters  and  sculptors  have 
delighted  in  portraying  it  in  grace  and  luxuriance.  We  should 
respect  our  own  personal  adornments  and  appearance,  and  try 
to  improve  them  lawfully.  All  dyes  and  articles,  to  change  the 
color  of  the  hair,  should  be  avoided  as  both  dangerous  and  in 
bad  taste.  Nostrums  for  increasing  its  growth,  restoring  it, 
and  so  forth,  are  generally  dangerous,  as  having  in  them  lead 
and  other  poisons  which  are  bad  for  the  health,  and  in  a  variety 
of  cases  have  produced  skin  diseases,  paralysis,  or  disease  of 


I 


to  introduce 
bed  by  some 

of  shape  for 
IS  than  any 
in  itself,  it  is 
>e  marred  by 
■wise  detract 
jerfcct  in  its 

its  lack  of 
ack  of  grace 
arent;  while 
y  unadorned 

upon  them, 
aauble,  takes 
t  the  Chapel 
)re  beautiful 
ther." 

quarrelling 
)r  us." 

lack  to  your 
;ady  to  give 
:,  then,  great 
air.  Nature 
nentioned  in 
ulptors  have 

We  should 
nee,  and  try 
)  change  the 
iirous  and  in 
restoring  it, 
1  them  lead 

in  a  variety 
•  disease  of 


ATTENTION   TO  DRESS  IN  THE   HOME.  419 

the  brain:  avoid  all  these  restoratives,  rencwers  and  invig- 
orators  of  any  kind.  Use  on  the  hair  cold  water,  plenty  cf 
brushing,  and  clean  it  when  needful  with  a  little  tepid  water  and 
ammonia,  rinsing  it  with  tepid  water  and  bay  rum,  and  wiping 
and  brushing  it  dry.  All  very  tight  or  small  braiding,  all 
curling  on  irons,  or  with  hot  tongs,  all  crimping  it  on  wires, 
bits  of  tin,  hair-pins,  or  with  hot  pencils,  is  very  injurious;  it 
stiffens  the  hair,  robbing  it  of  its  natural  gloss  and  flexibility, 
and  it  burns  and  splits  the  e'^t^s,  preventing  further  growth. 
The  ends  of  the  hair  sJouid  occ  ionally  be  trimmed  off  with 
the  scissors,  and  the  hau  0/  child'  m  should  be  cut  short  until 
they  are  ten  or  eleven  y-.-^c  old.  After  fevers,  or  cases  of 
severe  illness,  it  is  well  to  cut  the  hair  short  to  produce  a  fresh 
and  silken  growth.  Every  person  in  dressing  the  hair  should 
regard  the  method  which  will  be  becoming  to  their  own  faces, 
whether  that  method  is  the  fashion  or  not.  The  fashion  may  be 
to  roll  the  hair  back  from  the  face,  but  some  people  with  very 
high,  broad  foreheads  and  prominent  eyes,  would  have  their 
appearance  much  injured  by  this  fashion.  Now  beauty  is  a  gift 
of  God,  and  we  should  be  glad  to  look  as  well  as  we  can. 
Again,  the  fashion  may  be  to  bring  the  hair  well  down  over  the 
forehead,  but  with  some  people  the  forehead  is  the  prettiest 
feature,  which  it  is  a  pity  thus  to  conceal.  So  let  every  one 
arrange  their  hair  to  suit  their  own  faces.  People  should 
always  take  time  enough  to  dress  the  hair  neatly ;  but  I  put  it 
to  your  common-sense,  is  it  right  for  a  reasonable  soul,  set  by 
God  in  a  world  full  of  work,  to  stand  for  hours  before  a  glass 
dressing  the  hair?  What  good  will  the  time  thus  spent  be  to 
them,  or  to  any  one  else  ?  I  also  commend  it  to  your  thinking, 
how  deplorable  it  is  for  any  woman,  old  or  young,  to  come 
down  among  her  family  in  the  morning,  her  front-hair  twisted 
up  in  colored  papers,  or  over  strips  of  tin,  her  back-hair 
unbrushed,   drawn    hurriedly   into    an    ungainly  bunch,  endj 


li' 


»l'-; 


420 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


dangling,  stray  hairs  flying,  dust  lying  on  the  hair,  and  thus 
made  hideous,  she  sits  a  sort  of  spectre  at  the  family-table, 
spends  the  morning  ovor  her  work,  and  by  afternoon,  or  perhaps 
at  nearly  evening,  she  takes  out  tins  and  papers,  frizzles  and 
braids,  curls  and  elaborates  for  strangers,  possible  guests,  as 
she  would  not  do  for  her  own  family;  and  she  comes  to  the 
tea-table  looking  very  fine,  while  at  breakfast  she  was  a  most 
untidy  spectacle.  Is  breakfast  so  unworthy  a  meal  ?  Is  the 
image  to  be  left  for  the  day  in  the  mind  of  father,  husband  or 
brother  of  so  little  consequence  ?  And,  lastly,  as  to  dressing 
the  hair — is  it  right,  is  it  becoming  to  modest  maids,  to  women 
professing  religion,  to  elaborate  and  tower  up  their  hair,  their 
own  and  quantities  bought,  filling  it  out  with  rats  and  cushions, 
folds,  puffs,  bands,  braids,  curls,  loops,  frizzes,  to  attract  the 
gaze  of  people,  kin  and  strangers,  promiscuously,  to  the  face  ? 
Behold  the  extremes:  the  woman  of  the  Orient  hides  her  face 
under  a  big  veil,  as  if  to  be  seen  were  pollution ;  the  woman  of 
the  Occident  draws  her  hair  far  from  her  face,  decorates  it  in  a 
fashion  to  attract  all  eyes,  sets  her  hat  as  far  as  possible  from  her 
countenance,  and  goes  out,  intent  on  being  stared  at." 

The  girls  all  laughed,  and  some  of  them  blushed. 

"  What  have  you  to  say  about  high-heeled  boots — real  high, 
narrow,  French  heels  ?  We  are  always  disputing  over  them," 
said  Belinda. 

"They  are  among  the  most  dangerous  things  in  the  world." 

"  Oh,  they're  not  dangerous  when  you  are  used  to  them. 
You  can  soon  walk  on  them  without  tripping." 

"  It  is  when  you  have  got  used  to  them  that  they  arc  most 
dangerous.  The  human  figure  was  meant  to  stand  erect,  well 
planted  upon  its  feet:  whatever  throws  the  body  out  of  this 
ordaii  '  d  equipoise  disturbs  nearly  all  of  its  functions.  These 
iiigh,  narrow  heels — placed  not  under  the  heel,  but  far  forward 
Ande'.  the  foot — destroy  the  proper  position  of  the  spinal  column 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME. 


ir,  and  thus 
family-table, 
1,  or  perhaps 

frizzles  and 
c:  guests,  as 
omes  to  the 
was  a  most 
:al?  Is  the 
,  husband  or 

to  dressing 
Is,  to  women 
ir  hair,  their 
nd  cushions, 

attract  the 
o  the  face? 
ides  her  face 
;e  woman  of 
urates  it  in  a 
ble  from  her 


i — real  high, 
over  them," 

le  world." 
ed  to  them. 

icy  arc  most 
J  erect,  well 
out  of  this 
ons.  These 
:  far  forward 
linal  column 


421 


m  "valking.  With  this  column  you  must  know  that  our  nerves 
ire  closely  connected.  To  these  high  and  ill-placed  heels, 
which  destroy  the  balance  of  the  body,  may  be  attributed  much 
of  the  prevalent  spinal  disease,  a  very  large  proportion  of 
the  diseases  and  weakness  of  the  eye,  and  not  a  few  cases  of 
insanity.  A  famous  oculist,  one  of  the  most  famous  in  the 
world,  when  a  patient  goes  to  him,  instead  of  first  looking  at  the 
eye,  says:  'Allow  me  to  see  your  feet;'  and  if  i.o  sees  a  high- 
heel,  a  narrow,  ill-placed  heel,  he  says:  'Go  and  get  a  pair  of 
shoes  with  low,  squarely-set  heels  put  under  the  heel  of  your 
foot,  and  then  I  will  examine  into  your  eye  trouble,  and  begin  to 
prescribe.  I  can  do  nothing  for  eyes  where  the  spine  is  so 
thrown  out  of  place  by  improper  shoes.'  The  posture  of  the 
figure,  forced  upon  the  wearers  of  these  shoes,  is  ungraceful  in 
the  extreme,  and  so  is  the  gait.  None  of  the  old  art  masters 
ever  chiselled  or  drew  such  figures  as  topple  above  a  modern 
boot.  The  poets  did  not  mean  this  plunging,  tottering  pace 
when  they  said : 

"  'And  in  her  step  the  goddess  was  revealed.'  " 

"These  high-heeled  boots  are  generally  too  tight,  among  their 
other  faults,"  said  Mary  Watkins.  "  VVe  laugh  at  the  Chinese 
for  squeezing  their  feet,  and  then  we  squeeze  our  own ;  and 
between  putting  the  foot  in  a  false  position  for  its  work, 
throwing  the  weight  on  the  front  of  the  foot,  and  then  cramping 
that,  I  think  the  feet  of  many  American  women  are  as  badly 
treated  as  those  of  Chinese  women." 

"  I  think,"  said  Sara,  "  that  this  propensity  of  human  beings 
to  pinch  and  compress  some  part  of  their  bodies  must  he  a 
tcniptation  of  the  evil  one  to  harm  that  which  is  made  in  God's 

tribe   of  Indians  which   presses  tlic  head   out  of  shape ;  the 
Chinese  devote  their  deforming  proclivities  to  the  feet;   and 


■i 
i 

I 
■fill 


n 


422 


7//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


nations   called   civilized,   especially   the  English,   French   and 
Americans,  crowd  and  compress  the  waist.     Which  is  worse  ?  " 
"To  compress  the  waist  is  surely  worse  than  to  squeeze  the 
feet,"  said  Mary,  "  for  there  we  displace  and  hinder  the  action  of 
organs  more  vital;  wc  interfere  with  circulation,  digestion  and 
breathing,  destroying  possibilities  of  good   blood;    the   com- 
plexion is  ruined,  being  made  rough  and  broken  from  watery 
blood,  or  is  sallow  and  bloodless;  the  gracefulness  of  the  step  is 
destroyed   by  distorting   the  muscles  of  the  siJes  and    hips- 
people   are   languid,   short-breathed,    faint    and    hysterical,   all 
because  they  think  they  arc  better  artists  than  God,  and  know 
better  how  a  human  figure  should  look." 

"You  cannot  .oo  .strongly  decry  this  practice  of  compressing 
the  waist,"  said  Hester.     "  Physicians  condemn  it  as  destructive 
of  human   health,  and  artists  scout   it  as   ruinous  to  human 
beauty.     When  I  was  abroad  and  visited  all  the  famous  galleries 
of  pictures  and  statuary  in  France,  Italy  and  Germany.  I  noticed 
how  very  different  the  artist's  idea  of  beauty  is  from  that  of 
the  modern  mantua-maker  and  the  modern  young  ladv.     The 
arti.st  draws  or  sculptures  hair  lightly  waved  or  gracefully  bound 
about  the  head,  conforming  to  its  contour,  and   not  soliciting 
attention;  the  figure  is  erect,  the  shoulders  thrown  back   the 
head  well  poised,  not  thrown  forward  from  the  hips  at  an  anHe 
of  thirty  degrees,  with  the  chin  thrust  into  the  air.  as  modern 
high  heels  demand ;  the  wai.st  has  its  free,  natural  curves,  well 
developed,    no   narrowness,    no   sudden    drawing    in    like   the 
hideous  body  of  a  wasp,  which  many  women  apparently  con- 
sider a  moud  of  beauty.     One  would  think  humanity  had  been 
striving  to  render  itself,  u.,  far  as  po.ssible,  unlike  the  ideals  of 
the  old  masters." 

^^  "  It  is  all  very  well.  Hester,  for  you  to  talk,"  said  Miss  Bi  .ck. 
''when  you  have  a  figure  which  needs  no  helping:  you  and 
Grace  Winton  can  afford  to  let  your  figures  be  as  they  were 
made." 


French  and 
h  is  worse?" 
)  squeeze  the 
•  the  action  of 
digestion  and 
d;    the   com- 

from  watery 
of  the  step  is 
2s  and  hips; 
lysterical,  all 
)d,  and  know 

compressing 
IS  destiuctive 
IS  to  human 
lous  galleries 
ny,  I  noticed 
"rem  that  of 
:  lady.  The 
efully  bound 
lot  soliciting 
'n  back,  the 
at  an  angle 
',  as  modern 
curves,  well 
in  like  the 
arently  con- 
ity  had  been 
he  ideals  of 

Miss  Hi  ,ck, 
j:  you  and 
s  they  were 


I 


ATTENTION   TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME. 


Pi'! 


423 


"Perhaps  the  whole  secret  of  that  is,"  said  Hester,  "that 
Grace  and  I  have  never  given  our  fiijures  any  hindering;  they 
grew  as  God  made  them,  as  anybody's  might  do.  I  doubi  if 
there  is  any  one  in  this  room,  except  Grace  and  mj^self,  who. 
from  childhood,  never  had  any  tight  or  compressing  article  of 
dress." 

"  Now,"  cried  Belinda,  "  I  want  to  hear  what  Aunt  Sophrjnia 
thinks  of  trains,  long-trained  gowns — things  I  doat  on!" 

"  I'm  sorry  that  you  do,"  I  said,  "  for  I  shall  condemn  your 
hobby  at  once.  If  trains  are  ever  admissible,  they  belong  to 
elderly  ladies  of  somewhat  stately  figure,  who  use  them  for 
afternoon  wear  in  their  own  houses,  where  there  is  no  dust  and 
dirt  to  make  them  revolting,  or  for  such  ladies  at  evening 
parties.  The  train  is,  from  its  weight  and  from  its  dragging 
upon  the  back,  owing  to  its  resistance  as  it  sweeps  over  objects, 
a  very  disadvantageous  thing  for  health.  It  impedes  free 
motion,  and  falling  about  in  wet  weather  in  the  streets,  collects 
dampness  around  die  feet  and  ankles.  The  train  is  wasteful  and 
extravagant ;  it  is  seriously  in  the  way  of  its  wearer  and  of  other 
people,  while,  as  it  becomes  draggled,  dirty,  wet,  and  frayed 
from  wear,  it  is  an  object  abominable  to  behold.  It  is  one  of 
those  styles  of  dress,  like  huj^e  hoops,  enormous  bustles,  and 
great  chignons,  designed  to  attract  attention,  a  thing  which  no 
womanly  woman  should  desire  to  do.  Besides,  I  think  a  train 
is  not  modest  for  street  wear.  The  train  is  caught  up  in  one 
hand ;  in  so  doing,  the  train  and  the  side  of  the  dress  are  lifted 
often  far  above  the  ankles  in  a  way  really  immodest.  If  a 
person  appeared  on  the  streets  with  a  dress  as  far  from  the 
ground  as  the  dress  is  frequently  lifted  by  the  train-wearer,  she 
would  be  liable  to  insults,  possibly  to  arrest.  A  dress  hanging 
easily  and  gracefully,  and  clearing  the  ground  in  its  entire  cir- 
cumference, is  the  only  reasonable  style  of  walking-dress  for  a 
lady.      Such  a  dress  is  healthful,  clean,  docs  not  weight  the 


'    i''!!!' 


1'^ 


^.;.,i 


* 


if,   '  > 


h 


II 


1 

1 

1    '  ' 

i  I 

V         1 

ll 

K 

424 


T//£    COMPLETE   HOME. 


wearer,  does  not  impede  the  step,  nor  occupy  the  hahds;  the 
chest  and  arms  can  be  freely  and  naturally  carried.     The  trouble 
is,  that  women  do  not  stop  to  consider  what  is  suitable  to  its  use, 
to  their  own  means,  and  to  their  own  appearance ;  but  they  are 
carried  away  by  an  idea  of  fashion,  so  that  women  professing 
godliness  a.e  ruled  in  so  very  important  a  matter  as  dress  by 
fashion  which  knows  no  godliness,  and  which  may  promulgate 
styles  which  were  invented   by  very  ungodly  women  indeed. 
But,  my  dear  girls,  do  you  not  see  that  you  might  question 
what  I  thought  of  this,  that,  and  the  other  item  of  dress,  and 
my  opinion  would  simply  be  an  opinion  ?     In  a  few  hours  your 
preferences  or  your  prejudices  would  forget  my  arguments,  even 
if  they  had  at  first  commended  themselves  to  you :  you  would 
furnioh  yourselves  with  new  reasons  for  your  previous  course. 
What  we  need,  is  not  to  clip  at  externals,  at  branches,  but  to 
strike  at  roots.     There  must  be  great  underlying  principles  upon 
which  to  rest;  we  must,  as  I  told  you,  argue  of  our  dress  on  the 
grounds  of  healthfulness,  honesty  and  charity,  an.    •  hen  in  all 
these  respects  a  fashion  is  unimpeachable,  then  v     arc  right  in 
adopting  it." 

It  was  now  tea-time,  and  Mrs.  Burr  came  to  the  back  uarlor, 
saying :  "  Miss  Sophronia,  you  have  abandoned  us  elders  to-day 
to  fall  into  scandal,  gossip,  slander,  to  quarrel  over  our  minister, 
to  devour  each  other :  the  evil  will  lie  at  your  door." 

I  am  not  afraid,"  I  replied,  "  for  in  these  respects  all  of  you 
ladies  are  a  Committee  of  tho  Public  Safety." 

Shortly  after  this  my  nieces  were  spending  an  afternoon  with 
me,  and  this  subject  of  dress  was  renewed.  I  said  that  it  was  a 
subject  which  concerned  greatly  the  happiness  and  well-being 
of  home.  Dress  had  much  to  do  with  health,  ar  '  •.  h  was 
one  of  the  most  important  home  questions.  Fxti  \t.p  ,e  in 
dress  had  a  sad  effect  on  the  prosperity  of  a  home ;  households 
had  been  ruined  in  reputation  and  in  fortune  V'  cxliavagancc, 


ATTENTJON  TO  DRESS  IN  THE   HOME. 


425 


hatids;  the 
rhe  trouble 
:  to  its  use, 
at  they  are 
professing 
s  dress  by 
)romulgate 
en  indeed, 
t  question 
dress,  and 
lours  your 
lents,  even 
^ou  would 
us  course, 
es,  but  to 
iples  upon 
ess  on  the 
lien  in  all 
c  right  in 

ick  parlor, 
crs  to-day 
r  minister, 

all  of  you 

noon  with 
it  it  was  a 
vell-bcing 
s  h  was 
.T  -<^  in 
Dusehoids 
avagancc, 


ambition  and  emulation  in  dress;  neatness  in  dress  added  much 
to  the  cheerfulness  and  beauty  of  home ;  a  thoughtful  avoidance 
of  over-dress  made  our  neighbors,  especially  those  of  narrow 
nieans,  more  comfortable  in  church,  and  in  companies  or  social 
gatherings  where  we  met  them.  I  have  known  women  who 
were  confirmed  invalids,  from  a  foolish,  dangerous  style  of 
dressing.  I  knew  of  a  mother  who  lost  five  of  her  children 
with  croup,  death  constantly  shadowing  her  household ;  and  this 
mother,  while  in  good  circumstances,  yet  applied  so  little  com- 
mon-sense to  dress,  that  her  delicate  children  wore  no  flannels, 
and  went  with  bare  neck  and  arms  in  the  "/inter!  Another 
mother  of  my  acquaintance  lost  all  her  six  children  with  scarlet 
fever,  losing  them  two  by  two  in  several  successive  winters; 
these  children,  elaborately  dressed,  went  around  the  house  and 
out  walking,  with  two  or  three  inches  of  bare  blue  leg  exposed 
between  the  short  stocking  and  the  embroidered  band  at  their 
knees. 

An  acquaintance  of  mine  was  so  mad  after  extravagant  dress 
for  herself  and  daughters  that,  without  the  knowledge  of  her 
husband,  she  ran  up  a  debt  of  two  thousand  dollars  at  one  store, 
for  dry  goods,  and  to  settle  this  her  husband  was  obliged  to 
give  up  a  lot  which  he  had  toiled  hard  to  purchase,  and  which 
would  within  six  years  have  been  worth  ten  thousand  dollars  to 
him.  This  woman's  daughters  all  married,  and  the  husbaiid  of 
each  one  became  a  bankrupt.  Another  person  whom  I  have  in 
my  mind  was  of  a  .saving,  industrious  turn,  with  very  little  idea 
of  fitness  or  beauty.  She  would  go  about  all  day  with  her  hair 
rough  and  untidy  ;  no  collar  or  cufTs,  a  soiled  kitchen  apron,  or 
an  ungainly  frock,  her  shoes  broken  and  trodder,  liwn  at  the 
heel.  Her  husband  became  afraid  to  invite  a  friend  to  go  home 
with  him,  being  almost  certain  to  find  his  wife  too  untidy  to  be 
seen ;  her  children,  as  .soon  as  they  were  grown,  experienced  the 
same  shame;  al'  began  to  stay  away  from  home  to  find  friends, 


ill 


-^tr 


426 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


i  S 


and  the  household  was  entirely  destitute  of  fanal}'-  comfort  or  of 
home-feeling.  Such  instances  as  these  should  sl\ovv  us  that 
dress  /tas  much  to  do  with  the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  home, 
and  consequently  we  should  make  it  r.  study  .egarding  its 
bearing  on  health,  honesty,  tharity. 

"I  wish,"  said  Helen,  "that  >.mi  would  discuss  it  practically 
for  my  benefit  as  regards  health." 

"Dress,"   1   resumed,  "is   designed   for  covering,  for   i.Rin- 
tainlng  a  proper  warmth  in  our  bodies,  and  in  so  dotr-T  to  leave 
our  musrular  action  free  and  unimpeded.     If  we  look  at  the 
lower  orders  of  animals,  we  shall  see  that  the  clothing  which 
grows  ti;-::n  them  is  altered  in  its  warmth  fro..,  season  to  season: 
the  hot^e  thins  out  his  hair,  and  the  bird  his  feather-coat  in  the 
hot   weather;    not  an   animal    has   a   covernvT  which   checks 
growth,  motion,  respiration,  circulation.     Did  C.>d  mean  man  to 
be  wor.e  off  in  his  clothing  than  a  brute  ?     He  i^  left  to  provide 
his  own  clothing,  and   given    facilities   for  so  doing,  that  this 
clothing   may   scrupulously   suit    his    conditions.     We   should 
change  our  garments  with  the  changes  of  season :  not  fancy  that 
we  can  harden  ourselves  to  going  all  the  year  round  with  the 
same  amount  of  underclothes.     We  should  reason  that  a  kind 
of  underclothes  which  would  prevent  our  feeling  sudden  changes 
in  temperature  would  be  suitable  to  us,  so  that  the  falling  dew, 
a  thunder-gust,  a  cold  wind,  would    not   chill  us,  producing, 
possibly,  a  dangerous  congestion.     In  winter,  we   should  wear 
heavy  flannels;  in  autumn  and  spring,  those  that  are  lighter; 
in  summer,  a  thin,  gauze  flannel,  but  some  undergarment  of  this 
kind  should  be  always  worn.     The    feet  should  be  well  pro- 
tected.    Fashion  may  prescribe  thin  shoes,  but  r ommon-scnse 
says.  No :  shoes  must  be  thick  enough  to  kee     ■   .t  dampness, 
and  the.  chill  of  cold  pavements.     The   head       .   5  a  screen. 
Fashion  .say. ,  ,\it  the  bonnet  far  off  fix,     f»^      ce,  leaving  the 
top  of  the  h.  •  '  and  the  ears  exposed  to  ■   .    '^ut,  light  or  cold. 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME.' 


427 


comfort  or  of 
show  us  that 
erity  of  home, 
regarding  its 

it  practically 

ig,  for  ir-nin- 
loii*^;-  to  leave 
:  look  at  the 
othing  which 
on  to  season : 
sr-coat  in  the 
'hich  checks 
mean  man  to 
ift  to  provide 
ng,  that  this 

We  should 

ot  fancy  that 

und  with  the 

that  a  kind 

den  changes 

falling  dew, 
,  producing, 
should  wear 
are  lighter ; 
ment  of  this 
le  well  pro- 
mmon-sense 
t  dampness, 

5  a  screen. 

leaving  the 
ght  or  cold 


Deafness  and  weak  eyes  prevail  marvellously,  and  people  com- 
plain of  their  inisforluncs.  Rather,  this  is  their  fault,  because 
they  did  not  regard  their  dress  in  its  relationship  to  health. 
Clothes  should  not  be  too  heavy,  dragging  on  back  and  hips, 
and  producing  spinal  and  other  diseases.  They  should  be 
made  of  fabrics  warm  enough  without  being  weighty,  and  there 
should  not  be  loaded  upon  them  a  mass  of  trimming,  which 
wearies  the  wearer  more  than  to  do  a  day's  work.  The  weight 
of  the  clothes  should  be  borne  by  the  shoulders,  which  in  their 
formation  are  fitted  to  sustain  burdens,  and  will  not  be  harmed 
by  a  reasonable  amount.  Our  dress  should  be  more  plentiful 
out-of-doors  than  in-doors,  and  when  riding  than  when  walking. 
The  throat  should  be  protected  in  cold,  damp  or  windy  weather. 
Some  seasons  fashion  allows  a  throat  to  be  dressed  high,  and 
other  seasons  demands  that  it  should  be  open  and  exposed  to 
all  inclemency  of  the  temperature.  But  the  throat  does  not 
vary  with  th-^se  changes,  and  needs  as  much  protection  at  one 
time  as  at  another.  In-doors,  too,  in  stormy,  penetrating 
weather,  we  should  add  to  our  clothes.  It  is  idle  to  say  '  it 
looks  foolish '  to  get  an  extra  wrap  on  a  day  when  we  do  not 
feel  comfortably  warm :  it  looks  wise  to  preserve  as  far  as  pos- 
sible an  even  temperature.  The  fashions  for  children  vary  in  a 
way  reckless  of  infantile  life.  One  while,  they  wear  reasonable 
stockings,  high  over  the  knees,  and  dresses  up  to  the  throats, 
and  sleeves  down  to  the  w'sts,  and  high  boots;  then,  with 
chests,  and  legs,  and  necks  well  covered,  they  are  comfortable, 
and  their  health  is  in  a  large  measure  .secured.  At  other  times, 
bare  legs,  necks  and  arms  are  the  style,  and  the  little  unfor- 
tunates shiver  into  croup  and  scarlet  fever.  Dress  your  chil- 
dren warmly  and  healthfully,  no  matter  what  fashion  says. 
Even  in  summer  do  not  expose  bare  necks  and  arms  to  evening 
air.  Also,  keep  a  pair  of  long,  woollen  stockings  on  hand,  so 
that  if  a  cold  comes  to  them  in  summer,  or  they  arc  attacked 


t 


1 


Ill  I 


428 


r//E   COMPLETE   HOME. 


»..h  any  d,sease  of  the  stomach,  <.  anything  akin-.o  cholera 
morbus,  the  woollen  stockings  n,ay  at  once  be  put  on.  Dress 
should  never  compress  the  part  of  the  body  it  covers:  tight 
arm-holes,  t,gh,  boots,  tight  waists,  tight  bands  and  belts  are  all 
mjunous  They  hinder  the  free  circulation  of  blood,  the  action 
of  hcart,Iungs  and  digestive  organs,  cause  headaches, dyspepsia 

worn  TT  T  °"""  ""P'""'^-     ^'  '"'  ""-"•  "'-<"-' 
won  t,g,,t  aoA,^^,  put  on  for  a  week  loose  bu,  well-supported 

clothes^not  garments  which  slip  about  and  feel  as  if  they  would 

drop  oft  and  as  soon  as  the  first  discomfort  of  change  is  gone 

fta  rehef  from  pressure  will  be  so  marked  and  ddi:htful  as  to 

assure  one  of  .ts  usefulness.     When  you  intend  to  buy,  or  have 

made,  any  article  of  dress,  ask  yourself  whether  it  is  suitable  for 

.  s  purpose  m  covering,  whether  in  lightness  and  easiness  of  ft 

ir,  T  -.f  "-P--'-  -  dragging  of  the  muscles, 
whether  „  wul  be  warm  enough  for  the  season  and  place  where 
It  IS  to  DC  worn. 

.lary  Watkins  had  not  come  with  my  nieces  that  day,  but 

he  heard  from  them  something  of  the  talk,  and  as  I  was 

wsitrng  l^r  within  a  week  or  two,  she  told  me  she  would  be 

httsj;  ""'  "'"  '"  "'  "°"  "'  '""•  "  "  '-»'"*" 

■■Our  honesty,"  I  said,  '■concern,  our  dealings  with  God  and 
wth  our  fe  low-men.  We  owe  God  a  part  of  our  substance, 
however  httle  we  have,  we  owe  a  part  of  that  little  to  God 
Among  the  Hebrews  poverty  did  not  exempt  from  orering 
sacn  ce;  but  ,t  regulated  the  value  of  the  saerifie. :  the  princ! 
could  offer  a  bullock,  the  poor  woman  a  young  pigeon.'  W 
g,ve  accordmg  to  our  ability,  bu.  we  must  give  something. 
Th,s  s  a  duty;  wo  should  also  feel  it  to  be  a  privilege.     Therf- 

wl    be,  that  we  must  not  spe-nd  so  much  in  proportion  to  our 
means,  on  our  dre.ss,  that  we  cannot  give  something  ,o  the 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME. 


429 


service  of  God.     Honesty  to  our  fellow-creatures  in  our  dress 
demands  first  that  we  shall  not  dress  better  than  we  can  afford, 
SO  that  we  shall  be  in  debt  for  our  dress.     What  right  have  I  to 
wear  a  velvet  cloak  at  the  expense  of  the  storekeeper  for  material, 
and  the  dressmaker  for  making  it  ?    I  might  as  well  be  a  beggar 
out-and-out,  and  go  and  ask  them  to  give  me  a  coat ;  indeed  it 
\\  ould  be  far  more  honorable  to  squarely  beg  for  it,  than  to  obtain 
it  on  false  pretences,  pretending  that  I  am  able  to  pay  for  it, 
and  mean  to  pay  for  it,  when  I  cannot.     Honesty  in  our  dress 
demands  that  all  that  we  have  in  material  and  making  should 
be  paid   for   promptly,  but  it  requires   more   than  this.      If  I 
am  possessed  of  no  capital,  and  am  earning  three,  five,  seven 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  I  have  no  right  to  lay  out  that  much 
each  year.     If  I  spend  all  that  I  have,  and  do  not  get  in  debt,  I 
am  not  dealing  really  honestly  with  the  community,  for  every 
hour  I  am  liable  to  meet  with  an  accident,  to  fall  ill,  to  become 
blind  or  crippled,  and  so  be  a  pauper  on  society,  forcing  my 
fellows  to  take  care  of  me.     Even  if  through  all  the  ordinary 
working  years  of  my  life  I  am  a  bread-winner,  still  age  is  likely 
to  come;  few  able-bodied  people  die  in  harness,  and  for  age, 
honesty  to  our  fellows  demands  that  we  should  make  a  pro- 
vision.    Therefore,  we  are  not  regarding  scrupulous  honesty  in 
our  expenditures  when  we  live  up  to  the  limit  of  our  income, 
without  overstepping  it,  for  we  are  bound  in  honesty  to  con- 
stantly prererve  a  margin,  to  lay  up  some  proper  provision, 
although  it  may  be  a  slender  one,  which  will  provide  for  us  in 
old  age,  or  in  incapability  from  any  cause. 

"  So  you  see,  Mary,  you  must,  when  you  consider  your  dress 
on  the  ground  of  honesty,  dress  so  that  you  can  give  something 
to  God's  work,  so  that  you  can  pay  for  all  that  you  buy,  and 
that  yo'.i  "j'l  Jl  not  dress  so  well  as  to  prevent  your  frugally  lay. 
ing  by  ^  ;  ething  for  time  of  need.  If  people  scrupulously 
regarded  honesty  in  their  dress,  they  would  be  removed  froni 


,  I 


HI   ' 


% 


m 


■;|lr'|' 


[ill 


n  ■¥  ri  -'.^ 

,  ( 

•  1  1  lid 

^         '          1 

1  f!  ^'     i 

If 

430 


r///-   COMPLETE  HOME. 


th.s  pa.nf.,1  emulation  ,.  fashion,  which  makes  so  many  people 
miserable.      The  question  with  them  would  be-not  what  every 
one  has  ur  does,  but,  'What  is  suitable  to  my  own  means  and 
pos.fon  ? '    People  would  get  on  that  honorable  ground  of  being 
laws  unto  and  judges  for  themselves.     The  young  clerk  in  a 
store  would  not  feel  that  sh    ..us.  a.oss  like  Ihe  banker's  wife 
uho  comes  to  her  counter;  the  young  girl  in  the  safe,  sensible 
society  of  the  country,  whose  walks  lie  through  rural  roads,  or 
HI  quiet  village  streets,  would  not  feel  possessed  to  get  those 
ilaunting  styles  which  some  fashion  paper  declares  to  her  are 
worn  on  Broadway  or  Chestnut  street.     Let  her  consider  that 
she, snot  to  appear  on  those  streets;  that  she  fortunately  has 
something  to  do  in  this  world  more  than  to  idle,  worry  and  grow 
old    before  her  time;  that  her  father's  means  are  represented 
in  land  and  cattle,  and  not  in  '.ank  stock,  and  that  it  i^  not 
needful    for  her  to  spend  eveiy  cent  of  her  ready  money  in 
dress. 

"  Now,  Mary,  these  sober,  common-sense  views  of  what  we 
shall  wear  are  not  likely  to  be  assumed  in  a  day  when  we  are 
grown  up ;  they  should  grow  up  with  us.     If  our  women  are  to 
dress  healthfully,  honestly,  charitably,  then  our  girls  must  be 
brought  up  to  have  right  views  of  dress,  an:l  to  think  right 
thoughts    abou.:    it      r.gin   wii.,    your  children,   in   p-.ecept. 
example,  and  practice.     Don't  bring  up  the  little  girl  to  value 
people  for  what  thev  ^ave  on  ;  to  centre  all  h.^  little  thoughts 
upon  clothes ;  to  make  dress  the  staple  of  her  conversation     I  et 
her  thmk  with  simplicity  about  dres«  ond  then  she  will  ^n-ss 
with  smiplicity,  and  simplicity  s  a  t.nng  beautiful  in  itself,  hke 
clear  light.     Let  your  child' ,        ss  '     so  comfortabL    .  >  plenti- 
rul  so  suitable  to  the  time  a.     pla       md  need,  so  tasteful,  and. 
Withal,  so  plain,  that  it  will  seen,  to  her  a  part  of  hersel     i  matter 
of  course,  and  she  will  not  think  of  it  in  fretfulncss,  or  vanil     or 
over-carefulness,  but  by  the  time  she  has  grown  up  it  will  have 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME. 


431 


become  a  habit  with  her  to  app.y  her  reason,  her  common-sense, 
to  her  dress,  and  to  have  it  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  health! 
honesty  and  charity.  Mothers  little  think  when  they  lavish,  in 
the  hearing  of  their  children,  praises  on  people's  clothing,  admi- 
ration on  'children  who  are  so  elegantly  dressed,'  envious  wishes 
that  they  could  procure  thus  and  so  for  their  children,  that  they 
are  training  these  children  to  make  of  dress  and  fashion  an  idol, 
on  the  altar  of  which  they  may,  in  saddest  truth,  offer  them- 
selves in  sacrifice." 

Belinda  Black  had  com.     i  to  see  Mary  while  we  were  talk- 
ing, and  had  taken  her  place  beside  me.     She  cried :  "  Still  this 
vexed  question  of  dress;  what  a  worry  it  is!     Don't  you  think 
it  is  a  pity  that  there  are  not  some  laws  to  govern  it— state  laws, 
say,  and  then  we  would  all  know  just  what  we  could  and  should 
wear,  and  if  we  put  on  a  thing,  we  should  not  be  accused  of 
extravagance,  nor  if  we  left  it  off,  of  penurionsness.     Suppose, 
for  instance,  the  law  was  that  where  people  had  a  thousand  a' 
year,  they  might  have  such  and  such  things,  and  where  they  had 
t^vo,  five,  ten,  twenty  thousand,  such  other  things.     There  is 
som.     ing  like  that  in  my  Telemaque,  where  Mentor  at  Salente 
has  tiA     citizens  divided  up  in  orders,  each  order  to  wear  such 
and   such  texture   and   color  of  clothes.     What  a  saving  of 
worry ! " 

"  I  told  you  lately,"  I  said,  "  that  legislators  had  passed  laws 
about  dress.  You  have  reverted  to  the  ancient  idc.i  of  sump- 
tuary laws,  such  as  were  passed  by  Henry  VII.,  Henr;  VI H.. 
and  other  sovereigns,  ordaining  whether  a  man's  coat  was  to  be 
taffetas  or  xelvet  or  woollen ;  how  many  gowns,  and  of  what 
material,  his  wife  was  to  possess ;  how  many  leathern  breeches 
were  lawful  to  him,  and  how  long  might  be  the  toes  of  his  boots, 
with  other  rules  relating  to  his  household  expenses.  These 
laws  fitted  rather  the'  chihihood  and  youth  of  the  race  than  its 
sober  maturity;  we  cannot  make  laws  to  fit  the  thousand  and 


en 


\:\ 


^'i'-W 


■    ,  ( 


1 


432 


!! 


TJ/E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


one  causes  and  exceptions  of  our  lives,  but  we  can  find  govern, 
ing  principles  whereby  we  are  bound  to  try  and  guide  our 
ways." 

My  next  conversation  on  dress  was  with  Miriam.  She  said 
to  me: 

"Aunt  Sophronia.  is  not  the  question  of  beauty  to  be  largely 
considered  in  regard  to  dress?  Ought  we  not  to  cultivate 
beauty  in  our  apparel  ?  " 

j'  Certainly  we  ought,"  I  replied.     "  It  is  important  indeed." 
"Then,  where  in  your  argument  of  dress,  under  the  heads  of 
health,  honesty  and  charity,  does  beauty  find  its  place  ?  " 

"  Under  the  head  of  chanty r  I  replied,  promptly ;  "  we  owe  it 
to  charity  to  be  all  of  us  as  beautiful  and  look  as  beautiful  as 
we  can." 

"  Let  me  hear  something,  then,  if  you  please,  of  the  way  in 
which  you  would  reason  of  dress  as  it  regards  charity." 

"There  is  no  person,"  I  said,  "without  some  ideas  of  beauty 
and  fitness.     All  eyes  rest  with  comfortable  approbation  on  the 
neat,  graceful  and  harmonious.     They  may  be  pleased  without 
knowing  why,  but  they  are  pleased  none  the  less.     The  little 
child's  face  lights  up  at  sight  of  the  ribbon-knot  at  its  mother's 
throat  and  the  flower  in  her  hair.     The  little  boy's  first  knightly 
gallantly  awakens  in  his  satisfaction  at  his  little  sister    fresh 
clean,  smiling,  though  her  tiny  gown  may  be  only  of  the  poet's 
'sprinkled  pink;'  and  in  viewing  his  mother  neat  and  tasteful 
m  her  work,  though  the  hair  may  have  no  ornament  but  its 
own  shining  smoothness,  and  the  gown  may  be  a  cheap  calico 
If  only  the  colors  are  in  good  taste,  if  fit  and  fashion  are  good' 
If  collar  and  knot  relieve  the  throat.     The  husband,  weary  from' 
work  in  field,  or  oflfice,  or  store,  comes  to  his  home,  and  sudden 
rest  falls  on  him  like  a  mantle,  when  he  sees  by  a  neat  hearth 
children  with  smooth  heads  and  clean  pinafores,  and  the  wife 
who  has  not  forgotten  the  pretty  wiles  of  dress  wherewith  she' 


m.     She  said 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME.  433 

first  pleased  his  eye.     If  the   lover  has  a  pleasure  in  seeing 
shining  teeth,  well-dressed  hair,  neat  hands,  a  well-"shod  foot,  a 
throat  •  tastefully  arranged,   has    the    husband    necessarily   so 
deteriorated  that  he  will  care  for  none  of  these  things?     We 
owe  it  of  dear  charity  to  the  taste  of  our  households,  that  when 
we  dress  in  the  morning  we  shall  put  our  clothes  on  neatly, 
and  make  our    persons   acceptable  to  the  eye,  .that  when  we 
come  to  the  table,  from  whatever  work,  we  shall  come  clean  and 
respectable;  not  with  sleeves  rolled  up,  gown  open  at  the  throat, 
and  dirty  apron.     Cousin  Ann  has  always  had  plenty  of  work  to 
do  and  often  hard  work,  but  she  always  kept  her  hair  and  feet 
neat,  a  clean  collar  on,  and  a  white  apron,  and  a  knot  of  ribbon 
on  hand  in  a  table-drawer,  to  slip  on  before  sitting  down  at  a 
meal,  or  meeting  a  guest.     We  owe  it  to  this  family  charity  not 
to  sit  on  Sabbath,  between  services,  arrayed  in  a  frayed  wrapper 
and  ragged  slippers,  on  the  plea  that  '  we  are  tired  and  nobody 
coming : '  we  shall  be  no  more  tired  if  we  are  decent.     Indeed, 
when  very  tired,  a  change  of  clothes  and  a  bath  are  very  resting;' 
and  we  should  always  feel  that  our  charity  in  dress  begins  at 
home,  and  dress  as  suitably  and  tastefully  as  we  can  for  the 
family  satisfaction.     This  is  an  example  that  mothers  owe  to 
daughters,  and  mistresses   to    maids;    a  courtesy  due  to  hus- 
bands, fathers,  sons,  brothers.     Pursuing  this  charity  of  decency 
in  our  dress,  we  should  beware  of  getting  gaudy,  tawdry,  slazy 
goods  for  clothing— things  which  will  be  soon  frayed,  spotted, 
faded,  and  make  us  deplorable  spectacles  as  we  are  '  wearing 
them  out."     It  is  better  to  have  few  clothes  than  very  many-^ 
few,   but  'enough   for  all    needs;    having   many   dresses,  they 
become  old-fashioned,  and  we  are  encumbered  with  a  quantity 
of  half-worn  things.     Let  us  be  careful  in  keeping  our  clothes 
well   repaired,  renewing  them  in  style  and  trimming,  so  that 
they  wiil  look  decent  as  long  as  we  wear  them.     A  good,  sub- 
stantial article  can  be  used  respectably  as  long  as  it  lasts,  and 
28 


434 


r//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


!-| 


{i* 


will  pay  for  making  over.     Let  us  consider  that  it  is  a  true 
charity  to   gratify   good   taste,   and   there   are   certain   ahnost 
universal    laws   of  taste   which   we   can   gratify   in   our  dress 
without  extravagance,  or  over-devotion  of  time  and   labor  to 
the  subject.     In  buying   our  clothes  we   .should   buy  what  is 
becoming  in  color,  pattern  and  style.     A    large  woman,  or  a 
very  tiny  woman,  looks  absurd  in  thick,  rough,  heavy  cloths, 
which  i.ced  a  tall  and  moderately  slender  figure  to  cany  them 
well.      A   little   lady   looks   pretty    in   delicately   sprigged    or 
spotted  lawns  and  linens,  wherein  a  big  lady  becomes  a  dowdy. 
A  tall  woman  can  wear  plaids  and  flounces  :  they  reduce  her 
apparent  size  and  become  her  well,  while  they  give  the  little 
woman  the  shape  of  a  butter-tub.     Short,  thick  women  look  ill 
in  shawls,  and  stout  women  should  not  venture  on  wearing  furs. 
A  fair  woman  is  lovely  in  blue,  but  licr  dark  sister  is  made  ugly 
by  that  beautiful  color.     A  big,  red,  double-chinned  face  should 
not  wear  a  small,  light,  airy,  delicate  hat,  even  if  such  hats  'are 
all  the  style  : '  for  the  white  lace,  the  dainty,  drooping  plume,  the 
spray  of  forget-me-nots,  or  hyacinths,  brings  broadly  into  relief 
the  redness,  thickness,  or  freckles  of  the  skin;  the  small  hat 
makes  the  big  face  still  more  like  a  sunflower,  or  a  pumpkin 
blossom.     Let  the  large  face  be  framed  in  a  hat  large  enough  to 
become  it,  wide  or  high  to  suit  figure  and  feature ;  and  let  the 
dark,  florid  face  beware  of  scarlet,  pink  or  blue  placed  near  it; 
so  surrounded  by  what  becomes  it,  the  large  face  is  handsome,' 
matronly,  reposeful.     Gaudy  colors  should  not  be  worn  in  the 
street.     They  are  ill  taste  in  spite  of  fashion.     The  young  lady 
can  wear  brighter  and  lighter  fabrics  than  the  mature  nmtron. 
Children    should   wear  small-patterned    goods.     The    prudent 
housewife,  intent  on  charity  to  her  husband's  resources,  will  buy 
for  herself  what  can  possibly  be  afterwards  tastefully  used  for 
her  children ;  for  older  girls,  what  may  be  made  over  fbr  their 
juniors.    A  black   silk,  a  good  black  alpaca,  a  brown  linen 


liil' 


ar  it  is  a  true 
certain   almost 
in   our   dress 
and    labor  to 
I   buy  what  is 
woman,  or  a 
heavy  cloths, 
to  carry  them 
r   sprigged    or 
)mcs  a  dowdy, 
cy  reduce  her 
give  the  little 
t-omcn  look  ill 
I  wearing  furs. 
■  is  made  ugly 
;d  face  should 
iuch  hats  '  arc 
ng  plume,  the 
Jiy  into  relief 
the  small  hat 
•r  a  pumpkin 
■ge  enough  to 
; ;  and  let  the 
accd  near  it ; 
is  handsome, 
:  worn  in  the 
!  young  lady 
iture  matron, 
riie    pruiient 
rces,  will  buy 
uliy  used  for 
vjcr  for  their 
brown  linen 


ATTENTION  TO  DRESS  IN  THE  HOME.  435 

and  a  nice  merino,  are  dresses  always  safe  to  buy,  suitable  to 
almost  any  age,  to  any  complexion,  and  to  almost  any  circum- 
stances. 

"Another  view  which  we  can  take  of  dress  as  it  regards  charity 
IS,  that  when  we  go  to  social  gatherings  we  should  consider  the 
circumstances  of  the  host,  and  of  the  company  which  we  arc 
likely  to  meet,  so  that  by  a  superfluous  elegance  of  dress  we 
shall  not  make  some  plainer  neighbor  feel  awkward  and  ill- 
dressed.      If  you  send  a  child,  elaborately  decorated  in  silk 
embroideries  and  jewelry,  to  some  child's  gathering,  where  the' 
other  l.ttle  ones  are  in  lawn  or  linen,  you  foster  pride  in  your 
own  child,  prevent  its  hearty  play  and  enjoyment,  and  provoke 
envy  m  the  others.     So  in  our  church,  we  should  take  care  not 
to  go  notably  more  richly  dressed  than  the  other  worshippers 
Indeed,  for  church,  I  admire  qfliet,  neat,  simple  dress;  forsaking 
the  pomps  and  vanities,  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil,  .-md 
appearing  in  the   Lord's  courts   laden  down  with  the  world's 
trappings,  arc  hardly  consistent.     Don't  dress  a  child  or  young 
girl  so  gorgeously  that,  when  she  is  grown  up.  all  f-^.shion  is 
exhausted  for  her.  and  she  must  weep  and  perplex  herself  for 
more  worlds  to  conqu<  r.      For  ornaments  use  many  flowers: 
a  .spray  of  leaves  or  flowers  is   in  order  anywhere,  from  the 
family  breakfast  to  the  evening  party.     Ribbons  of  becoming 
hue,  and  fresh  and  unsoiled,  arc  also  suitable  everywhere,  with 
the  calico  wrapper  or  the  evening  silk.     Wear  little  jewelry;  a 
piling  on  of  gold  pins,  rings,  tinkling  bracelets,  ponderous  chains, 
is  decidedly  barbaric  taste.     Don't  wear  a  watch  to  do  hou.se.' 
work.     A  small  bow,  a  pearl  arrow,  or  other  ornament  of  jet, 
pearl  or  shell,  is  tasteful    in  the  hair.      Neither  be  lavish  in 
small   ornaments   nor  despise  them,   and   by  taking  care   of 
what  you   have   you  will  always  be  able  to  apjicar  suitably 
arrayed.     Lastly,  never  get  an  article  too  splendid  for  the  rest 
of  your  wardrobe." 


i'.  If  v. 


d  ■ 


$■.  •      I  : 


"'fl 

-'1 

J'fl 

W' 


I  111 


I  !♦    ! 


i;: 

f 

1*1 

rl 

1 

' 

t! 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

MISTRESS   AND    MAID    IN   THE    HOME. 
AUNT   SOPHKONIA's    VIEWS   OF   OUR    DUTIES   TO   SERVANTS 

^y>^HE  more  that  I  consider  the  affairs  of  Home,  the  more 

C'   III  J     .  ' 

c  M       am   1   iinprcssc'd  with  tlie  importance  of  the  servant's 

IfriC     position,     I  low  much  of  our  home-order,  health,  econ- 

^      omy,  cheerfuhiess,  is  dependent  upon  the  domestic!     I 

think  the  interest,  value  and  duty  of  this  relation  are  too  seldom 

appreciated,  its  permanency  is. undervalued.     Not  only  is  our 

relation  to  our  servant  •;    or  our  discharge  of  duty  to  them,  a 

matter  of  iniporf."  own  especial  Households,  but  it  is 

of  moment  to  j  state.     In  this  relation,  as  in  the 

rearing  of  our  clii....   •    .1,0  Hon.f;  reaches  beyond  itself,  and 

builds  or  destroys  in  other  liomcs. 

If  we  take  a  young  girl  into  our  house  for  a  servant,  and 

find  her  ignorant,  careless,  untidy,  generally  the  first  impulse  is 

to  discharge  her,  and  find  better  help.      But  stop  a  moment. 

Do  we  not  owe  this  girl  something— a  debt  of  our  common 

humanity?     Possibly  she  is  an  orphan,  and  has  had  no  one 

interested  to  instruct  her ;  or  she  may  have  parents  and  friends 

who  are  ignorant  and  sliifiless,  products  of  the  lack  of  training 

of  a  former  generation,  and  they  have  known  no  good  habits  to 

impart  to  this  girl.     Suppose  wc  do  send  her  aw.iy :  who  is  there 

upon  whom  she  has  a  greater  claim,  who  will  take  up  the  task 

ihat  wc  reject  and  make  this  girl  a  useful  woman  ?     If  no  one 

noes  this,  what  is  to  be  expected  ?     She  will  be  the  «iirly  and 

Wa.steful  wife  of  some  poor  man,  confirming  him  In  all  his  evil 
(430) 


i»r 


4' 


IE. 
SERVANTS. 

ome,  the  more 
tlie  servant's 
•,  health,  econ- 
domestic!  I 
ire  too  seldom 
3t  only  is  our 
ity  to  them,  a 
lolds,  but  it  is 
lion,  as  in  the 
)nd  itself,  and 

a  scr\'ant,  and 

irst  impulse  is 

ap  a  moment. 

our  common 

s  had  no  one 

Its  and  friends 

ck  of  training 

■jood  habits  to 

' :  who  is  there 

:e  up  the  task 

1  ?     If  no  one 

the  dirty  and 

in  all  his  evil 


MISTRESS  AND   MAID   IN  THE  HOME. 


437 


habits,  and  bringing  into  the  world  a  brood  of  semi-beggars, 
filthy,  ragged  and  unschoofed,  to  be  the  criminals  and  paupers 
of  a  generation  to  come.  How  much  worse  is  every  town  for 
one  such  degraded  family?  They  arc  drunkards,  thieves,  mur- 
derers, incendiaries.  What  will  it  not  cost  the  public  to  look 
after  them,  from  the  hour  when  charity  accords  to  their  child- 
hood cold  victuals  and  cast-off  clothes,  through  years  of  pau- 
perism, tramping,  criminal  prosecutions,  jails,  hospitals,  the 
potter's  field?  Besides  this  positive  loss,  there  will  be  the 
negative  loss.  Mow  much  better  might  not  the  state  have  been 
for  these  half-dozen  sturdy  rascals,  if  they  had  grown  into 
intelligent  citizens,  law-abiding  heads  of  families,  taxpayers,  soil- 
cultivators,  mechanics,  inventors  ?  We  who,  from  indolence  or 
vexation,  fail  to  take  the  part  of  making  a  young  woman  what 
she  should  be,  if  there  is  in  herself  any  quality  to  second  our 
efforts— a  quality  which  we  can  elicit  by  persevering,  kindly 
care— are  neither  doing  our  part  in  the  world  as  good  citizens, 
nor  as  good  Christians. 

Again,  we  often  have  in  our  houses  girls  who  are  pretty  good 
workers,  cleanly,  pleasant ;  they  suit  us  very  well,  and  we  keep 
them  :  but  while  they  are  in  our  family  they  are  not  of  it ;  we  do 
not  interest  ourselves  in  them  ;  we  give  them  uo  friendly  counsel ; 
we  do  not  look  forward  to  their  future,  and  help  them  to  provide 
for  it;  they  are  lonely  in  our  houses— that  tic  of  home  and 
friendly  interest  which  every  woman  craves  is  lacking  to  them. 
Our  daughters,  young  friends,  and  relatives,  who  are  in  them- 
selves  better  instructe  1  by  reading,  example,  and  observation, 
we  carefiilly  prepare  for  their  future  liome-life,  guard  their  ac- 
quaintanceships, arc  anxious  lest  they  marry  too  hastily,  or  throw 
themselves  away ;  but  we  do  not  think  of  these  things  for  our 
maid.  So  presently,  left  unwarned  and  uncounselled.  without 
coni.dants  or  guardian.s,  she  marries  when  there  arc  no  .savings 
wherewith  to  start  a  home;  when  she  has  no  substantial  ward- 


1 


I    !l 


il 


I  ■  • 


B 

* 

HBw 

'1 

^^^ 

^Bi 

IP   ■' 

B 

W''^' 

^K^t 

i 

'H 

438 


TJ/£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


robe;  no  little  store  of  bedding,  and  household  linen,  and 
crockery;  when  she  is  indeed  too  young  to  assume  the  cares  of 
married  life ;  when  the  one  small  room  which  will  be  her  home 
is  but  half-furnished;  and  so  before  her  will  lie  a  life  of  poverty, 
toil,  discouragement,  children  for  whom  she  cannot  provide, 
possibly  beggaiy ;  and  again  by  our  negligence  the  home,  which 
might  be  a  blessing  and  a  tower  of  strength,  is  never  built ;  the 
town  has  one  less  flourishing  household^  and  one  more  family 
perpetually  on  the  verge  of  ruin;  the  state  just  so  many  Ics.. 
efficient  citizens.  The  trouble  is  that  we  forget  in  considering 
our  servants  our  common  womanhood ;  they  are  viewed  by  us 
as  chattels,  as  animated  machines  to  perform  for  us  such  and 
such  offices,  and,  in  regarding  them,  we  forget  the  human  tie, 
that  God  has  made  of  one  blood  all  the  nations  of  the  earth; 
that  in  Clirist  we  and  our  servants  may  become  kin ;  that  the 
believing  servant  may  be  received  by  us  as  Onesimus  by  Phile- 
mon— as  a  brother  beloved. 

There  are  differences,  it  is  true — differences  in  station,  in  liabits 
of  thought,  in  associations,  in  methods  of  pleasure ;  these  differ- 
ences are  neither  for  our  making  nor  for  our  abrogating,  nor  arc 
they  necessarily  for  discomfort,  and  regretting  on  cither  hand,  if 
each,  as  mistress  and  maid,  does  duty  honestly,  and  cordially 
respects  the  position  of  the  other. 

I  often  hear  Mrs.  Black  using  the  expression,  "  Nobody  but 
the  servants,"  very  much  as  if  she  would  indicate  nobody  at  all 
Now  Mrs.  Black  is  not  an  unkindly  woman,  but  she  regards  her 
servants  and  speaks  of  them  veiy  nnich  as  one  would  of  a  horse 
or  a  cow;  she  seems  entirely  to  forget  a  common  humanity.  I 
tolcl  her  once  that  this  struck  me  painfully;  I  thought  it  was  un- 
just to  the  .servant  as  an  individual,  unjust  to  ourselves  who  had 
the  same  organs,  emotions,  manner  of  birth,  human  ties,  pro.'fpect 
of  death,  and  possessed  inmiortality;  md  unjust  to  God,  who 
made  us  all  of  one  blood,  and  in  one  image — his  image,  in  rac\i 


Id  linen,  and 
le  the  cares  of 
I  be  her  home 
ife  of  poverty, 
nnot  provide, 
i  home,  which 
:vcr  built ;  the 
e  more  family 

so  many  les., 
in  considering 
viewed  by  us 

us  such  and 
le  human  tie, 

of  the  earth; 
kin;  that  the 
nus  by  Phile« 

ition,  in  habits 
: ;  these  diffcr- 
jating,  nor  are 
:;ither  hand,  if 
and  cordially 

"  Nobody  but 
nobody  at  all 
10  regards  her 
uld  of  a  horse 
humanity.  I 
i[ht  it  was  un- 
.'Ives  who  had 
ties,  prospect 
to  God,  who 
mage,  in  fac^i 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID   hV   THE  HOME. 


439 


and  the  image  is  His,  whether  cast  in  clay  more  or  less  lefined, 
as  a  statuette  might  be  a  copy  of  the  Venus  of  the  l.ouvre, 
whether  the  statuette  were  moulded  in  common  clay,  in  iron- 
stone ware,  in  china,  porcelain,  or  best  Sevres. 

I  said :  "  Does  it  make  Martha  less  human,  less  an  individual, 
to  be  respected  and  sympathized  with,  that  the  Lord  gave  hot 
to  begin  with  larger  hands,  stronger  muscles,  and  more  simple 
tastes  and  surroundings  than  mine  ?  so  that  these  largely 
developed  muscles  and  narrower  tastes,  united  to  her  sturdy 
honesty  and  valiant  common-sense,  have  put  her  for  years  in 
the  position  of  an  invaluable  maid,  to  whom  I  try  to  be  a  reason- 
able and  sympathizing  mistress." 

"  It  is  easy  enough  for  you  to  talk  that  way.  Miss  Sophronia," 
said  Mrs.  Black :  "  everybody  knows  what  a  model  servant 
Martha  is;  if  you  had  my  servants  to  deal  with,  you  would 
change  your  views,  I  fancy.  Here's  Martha — been  with  you 
fifteen  years  or  more,  and  my  girls  I  get  so  exasperated  with 
that  I  rush  into  the  kitchen  and  discharge  them  about  once  in 
jix  months,  and  new  ones  prove  no  better." 

"  If  I  had  discharged  Martha  at  the  end  of  six  months,  she 
would  not  have  been  here  for  fifteen  years,"  I  said.  "  She  was 
not  half  as  valuable  to  me  the  first  year  as  now.  Six  months  is 
hardly  enough  to  get  thoroughly  into  the  ways  of  a  household; 
certainly  not  enough  to  attain  a  fixed,  vital  and  affectionate  in- 
tercut in  it  and  all  its  member.«.  These  virtues  in  a  domestic 
arc  matters  of  natural  growth;  they  do  not  spring  fully  armed 
outx)f  her  head  as  Minerva  from  the  head  of  Jove.  Do  you  not 
Ihink  some  of  the  defects  which  irritate  you  v\  your  servants 
might  be  conquered  by  your  keeping  them  longer,  and  educat- 
ing them  in  your  ways,  and  also  by  your  feeling  more  human 
sympatliy  with  them;  showing  that  interest;  trying  to  interest 
them  in  their  work  and  in  you;  letting  them  feel  ns  if  they  had 
ft  friend  in  the  house;  as  if  the  house  was,  while  they  remained 


if' 


^40 


THE    COMPLETE  HOME. 


in  it,  their  home?  Perhaps  they  see  that  you  do  not  expect 
them  to  do  very  well ;  that  you  are  on  the  watch  for  faults  rather 
than  for  virtues.  Suppose  you  treat  them  with  confidence  and 
consideration;  do  not  blame  them  hastily;  something  that  ha^ 
been  done  wrong — some  breakage,  or  loss,  or  careless  act — may 
not  be  theirs  at  all,  and  it  will  seem  hard  to  them  to  be  regarded 
as  naturally  the  ill-doers — the  black  sheep  of  the  household. 

"  More  or  less,  we  must  trust  our  servants ;  they  come  into 
the  inner  life  of  the  home  in  such  a  manner  that,  by  all  the 
members  of  the  family,  they  must,  in  a  measure,  be  trusted ;  it 
cannot  be  helped  that  they  shall  hear  what  we  say;  see  what  we 
do;  understand  our  circumstances,  our  losses,  our  possessions; 
suspect  many  things  which  perhaps  we  thought  quite  out  of  the 
range  of  their  knowledge.  Now  thus  placed,  no  quality  in  them 
is  more  valuable  than  tnistwortliincss,  and  there  is  nothing  which 
more  develops  this  than  to  be  trusted.  If  we  persist  in  regard- 
ing our  servants  as  spies,  gossips  and  foes,  it  is  likely  that  they 
will  continue  spies,  gossips  and  foes  to  the  end  of  the  chapter; 
more  than  we  fancy,  we  are  able  to  create  that  in  which  we  be- 
lieve. True,  believing  a  servant  honest  does  not  always  make 
them  so,  and  very  trustful  employers  have  often  been  egregiously 
deceived;  but  we  never  yet  made  any  one  better  by  believing 
them  to  be  bad,  and  good  treatment,  good  example,  and  good 
instruction,  will  go  far  toward  creating  for  us  good  servants, 
even  out  of  originally  poor  materials." 

I  have  always  considered  Cousin  Ann  a  model  in  her  manage- 
ment of  her  servants.  I  tell  her  this  sometimes,  but  she  s;vys  it 
i.i  much  easier  to  have  good  servants  in  the  country  than  in  the 
city.  There  is  less  temptation  there  for  them  to  hurry  their 
work,  so  that  they  may  run  off  They  have  less  intercourse 
with  companions  who  may  be  idle  and  injurious.  Wlun  their 
v/ork  is  done,  their  time  is  occupied  in  reasonable  occupations, 
as   reading,  and   n/aking  and  mending  their  clothes;  and  this 


A//Sr/f£SS  AND  MAID  IN  THE  HOME. 


441 


o  not  expect 
-  faults  rather 
jnfidence  and 
hing  that  ha< 
ess  act — may 
)  be  regarded 
ousehold. 
ey  come  into 
It,  by  all  the 
le  trusted ;  it 
;  see  what  we 
possessions; 
ite  out  of  the 
lality  in  them 
othing  which 
list  in  rcgard- 
:cly  that  they 
the  chapter; 
.vhich  we  be- 
always  make 
n  egregiously 
■  by  believing 
tie,  and  good 
ood  servants, 

her  managc- 
ut  she  says  it 
y  tlian  in  the 
3  hurry  their 
s  intercourse 
When  their 

occupations, 
les;  and  this 


gives  thoughtfulness  and  stability  to  their  character,  and  puts 
them  on  the  road  to  thrift  and  thoroughness.  This  is  doubtless 
all  true.  But  I  have  seen  excellent  servants  in  the  city,  and 
very  poor  ones  in  the  country,  and  I  believe  in  the  old  adage, 
"A  good  mistress  makes  a  good  maid." 

I  have,  when  visiting  Cousin  Ann,  and  especially  when  I 
passed  a  winter  with  her,  carefully  observed  her  ways  with  her 
servants,  and  I  have  arrived  at  certain  rules  by  which  she  guides 
her  sway. 

First.  She  intends  to  respect  her  servants  in  their  places, 
and  so  she  clearly  gives  them  to  understand  that  they  must  be 
respectable.  Lying,  rudeness,  uncleanliness,  vulgarity  in  word 
or  act,  are  not  respectable,  and,  therefore,  the  servant  must 
eschew  all  these. 

Second.  Cousin  Ann  sets  herself  the  example  of  what  she 
would  have  her  servant  be.  She  never  deceives  nor  equiv- 
ocates. She  is  never  rude  nor  ungracious  in  her  order  or  her 
reproofs.  She  is  exquisitely  tidy  and  orderly.  While  respecting 
others,  she  means  herself  to  be  respected.  She  has  a  quiet 
dignity,  removed  alike  from  familiarity  and  from  haughtiness. 
Ghe  is  calm  and  kindly. 

Third.  She  makes  obedience  to  her  wishes  possible.  She 
does  not  hurry  the  servant,  so  that  she  cannot  get  tidily 
through  with  her  work.  She  does  not  bid  her  be  cleanly,  and 
so  crowd  her  with  labor  that  there  is  no  time  for  her  to  bathe, 
comb  her  hair,  dress  neatly,  make,  wash  and  mend  her  clothes, 
and  set  in  9rdcr  her  room. 

Fourth.  She  makes  her  servants  fee!  how  important  to  the 
well-being  of  the  whole  house  their  good  conduct  and  good 
work  may  be.  She  docs  not  hector  them  with  trivial  directions, 
but  she  teaches  thoroughly  and  once  for  all  what  she  wishes 
d«ne,  and  she  gives  them  fundamental  rules. 

Fifth.     She  remembers  that,  like  other  people,  her  sen'ants  are 


^■ 


(,  *, 


Ifl 


442 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


imperfect,  that  human  bodies,  and  minds,  and  hearts  may  get 
out  of  order.  When  they  are  ill,  or  even  a  little  ailing,  she 
bestows  rest,  freedom  from  work,  nursing  and  doctoring,  as  she 
would  to  any  other  member  of  the  family  in  proportion  to  the 
needs  of  the  case.  She  does  not  ask  needless  questions.  She 
awaits  confidence  rather  than  demands  it,  respecting  individual 
secrets  and  sorrows.  She  yields  ready  sympathy  v/ith  their 
troubles,  is  not  easily  offended  by  accidents  or  by  little  nervous- 
ness; and  when  the  usually  kind-tempered,  willing  servant 
appears  in  a  new  character,  as  flustered,  cross,  hasty  of  speech, 
she  quietly  arranges  a  change  of  work,  a  holiday,  a  little  treat 
of  some  kind,  to  relieve  the  unknown  pain  lying  at  the  root  of 
this  exhibition.  I  remember  once  when  I  was  there.  Cousin 
Ann's  servant  seemed  pettish  and  careless  for  several  days,  and 
finally  spoke  very  impertinently  to  her  mistress.  Some  ladies 
would  have  reproached  her,  told  her  that  she  had  been  put  up 
with  for  days,  and  have  then  discharged  her.  Cousin  Ann,  on 
the  contrary,  said,  calmly: 

"  Harriet,  you  are  quite  forgetting  yourself  You  have 
seemed  to  feel  worried  at  something  for  several  days.  You  do 
not  usually  act  in  this  manner.  Possibly,  if  you  told  me  what 
the  matter  was,  I  could  help  you.  I  should  be  glad  to  do  .so. 
It  is  much  better  to  be  helped  to  do  right,  ^'^an  to  allow  our- 
selves to  do  wrong." 

Harriet  sat  down  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  Having 
cried  for  a  while  she  became  quieter,  and  Cousin  Ann  said, 
kindly:  « 

"  Well,  Harriet,  what  is  it  ?  " 

Then  out  came  the  trouble.  Harriet  had  a  lover.  SIk  had 
supposed  him  to  be  a  decent  young  man.  She  had  fouml  out 
that  he  drank  and  had  been  off  on  a  wild  s'^rec  He  wanted  to 
be  taken  into  favor.  "  Tf  I  give  him  the  cold  shoulder,"  .sobbed 
Harriet,  "  he'll  go  off  and  marry  Mary  McMannus.     And  I  do 


MISTKES^     uVD  iMAID   IN  THE  HOME. 


443 


care  for  him,  but  I'm  afraid  of  drunkards!  Didn't  my  own 
father  drink,  and  break  my  mother's  heart,  and  chase  me  out  in 
the  snow,  until  it  was  well  for  us  that  he  died?  But,  oh,  what 
will  I  do,  disappointed  as  I  am?" 

Only  a  servant  girl's  little  love-story  and  bitter  disappoint- 
ment ;  possibly  some  would  have  passed  it  by  carelessly. 

Cousin  Ann  sat  down  by  her  maid  and  said,  in  true  sym- 
pathy :  "  Harriet,  I  am  voy  sorry  for  you,  and  I  will  advise  you 
as  I  would  my  daughter.  Don't  marry  a  man  who  drinks.  If 
he  does  not  love  you  well  cnougli  to  reform  for  the  sake  of 
securing  you,  he  will  not  love  >  ou  well  enough  to  be  kind,  nor 
to  provide  for  you,  nor  for  your  children.  It  is  hard  to  be 
disappointed  in  a  lover,  but  much  harder  to  be  disappointed  in  a 
husband.  How  would  you  repent  marrying  a  drunkard,  il  you 
found  yourself  a  beggar,  perhaps  maimed  by  him  in  some 
drunken  row,  or  saw  little  children  starved,  beaten  or  driven  out 
into  the  cold  night!  Be  brave,  Harriet,  to  do  what  is  riglu! 
Now  you  can  be  self-supporting,  safe  and  respectable.  If  you 
married  a  drunkard,  nothing  would  be  left  you  but  misery  and 
regret.  Now,  Harriet,  you  are  tired  and  excited  with  your 
trouble  and  crying:  suppose  you  go  to  your  room  and  lie  down 
a  while.  And  on  the  table  in  my  room  there  is  a  little  red 
book  which  I  will  give  you,  and  I  wish  you  wouUl  get  it  as  you 
go  by,  and  read  it  through  before  you  make  up  your  mind  on 
this  matter." 

This  little  book,  as  I  learned,  was  a  storj'  of  a  girl  who 
married  a  drunkard. 

Cousin  Ann's  womanly  kindness  not  only  saved  her  a  good 
.servant,  for  Harriet  lived  with  her  for  four  years  after  this,  but  it 
saved  Harriet  to  herself  Her  lover  did  not  reform.  She 
discarded  him.  A  miserable  sot,  he  is  now  in  jail  for  arson; 
while  Harriet  has  married  a  very  good  man  who  works  for 
Reed,  and  has  as  nice  a  home  anH  t  -  as  pretty  children  as  are 
to  be  seen  anywhere. 


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77/^    COMPLETE   HOME. 


A  sixth  rule  with  Cousin  Ann  is  to  n  quire  obedience  to  hef 
orders,  and  an  adherence  to  her  plans  and  wishes  in  her  house. 
She  holds  the  reins  and  guides  her  household,  and  allows  no 
contravening  of  her  plans.  She  does  not  permit  negligence  to 
pass  unrebuked,  or,  finding  a  thing  ill  done,  do  it  herself,  and  so 
confirm  in  her  maid  the  careless  habit.  When  a  fault  is  com- 
mitted, she  is  prompt  on  the  spot  to  set  it  right.  She  does  not 
wait  a  week  and  then  cast  it  up. 

These  rules  of  Cousin  Ann's  I  have  tried  to  impress  upon  my 
young  friends  for  their  guidance  in  managing  their  servants. 
I  remember,  when  Miriam  first  hired  a  grown  servant,  she  came 
to  me  in  a  great  deal  of  perplexity.  For  two  years  Miriam  did 
her  own  work ;  then  she  took  little  Ann  from  me,  Martha's 
niece,  w)  c  bad  become  a  very  useful  maid,  and  a  year  and  a 
half  la-t  :  he  hired  a  grown  girl.  She  came  to  consult  me, 
saying ; 

"Aunt,  I  don't  want  to  have  trouble  with  my  servants,  and  this 
perpetual  changing.  How  shall  I  manage  them  ?  Mrs.  Black 
has  just  been  warning  me  that  I  must  not  allow  any  visitors." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  hire,"  I  asked — "  a  machine  or  a 
human  being?" 

"  Why,  a  very  respectable  young  woman,"  said  Miriam. 

"And  where  is  the  respectable  young  woman,"  I  said,  "who 
was  made  without  a  heart  or  capacity  for  friendship  ?  If  she  is 
a  good  young  woman,  she  will  have  friends  of  some  kind  to  love ; 
■  because  people  are  servants  they  are  not  made  without  parents, 
sisters,  aunts,  or  other  relatives  to  care  for.  They  have  their 
little  interests  :  they  want  to  know  how  the  neighbor's  sick  baby 
is,  and  what  new  dresses  the  cousin,  who  is  to  be  married,  is 
making,  and  if  the  little  nephew  looks  well  in  his  first  trowsers, 
and  whether  the  grandmother's  rheumatism  is  better.  It  is 
barbarity  to  take  a  young  woman  into  your  house  to  woik, 
yourself  meanwhile  not  expecting  to  be  her  companion,  and 


MISTHESS  AND  MAID   IN    HIE   HOME. 


445 


then  saying  to  her :  '  I  do  not  approve  of  servants  having 
friends." " 

"What  shall  I  do?  That  does  seem  cruel,  but  Mrs.  Rlack 
says  if  I  am  not  careful  that  iny  kitchen  will  be  full  of  visitors, 
that  the  work  will  be  neglected  for  gossip,  that  there  will  be 
diseases   brought    to   the    .children,    that    '  isitors   will    be 

constantly  taking  meals  and  carrying  off  gs.     You  know^, 

aunt,  I  do  not  want  to  be  stingy,  but  I  must  economize,  .nd  I 
cannot  allow  wasi  j." 

"  That  is  all  true,  my  dear,  but  there  is  a  happy  mean  in  all 
things.  You  expect  to  give  your  servant  a  part  of  Sunday, 
and  a  part  of  Thursday  afternoon,  unless  something  unforeseen 
interferes  now  and  then  with  this  liberty.  Thus  she  will  have 
twice  a  week  to  see  her  friends.  She  will  have  occasional 
evenings  out.  When  you  engage  the  girl,  tell  her  strictly  and 
clearly  at  what  hour  you  wish  her  to  return  on  these  occasions, 
and  tell  her  this  hour,  must  not  be  overstepped.  Tell  her  that 
you  do  not  like  much  company,  nor  company  during  working 
hours ;  but  that  she  is  welcome  to  see  her  relatives  and  nice 
quiet  friends  at  proper  times,  if  they  leave  at  the  hour  which  you 
set  for  closing  your  house,  and  there  are  not  too  many  at  once,  or 
those  who  are  noisy.  Tell  her,  also,  that  you  will  rely  on  her 
to  see  only  those  friends  of  whom  her  near  relatives  and  her 
conscience  will  approve.  You  can  then  kindly  notice  how 
matters  go,  and  see  that  your  rules  are  obeyed.  Don't  establish 
unnatural  conditions  and  needless  restrictions  :  they  force  people 
toward  deceit  and  disobedience." 

"That  calls  up  another  question.  Mrs.  Smalley  visited  me 
yesterday,  and  she  warned  me  solemnly  not  to  allow  any 
'follmvers:'  she  said  itwdiS  positively  rtiinotts." 

"  What  is  a  follower  ?     Pray  tell  me." 

"  Why,  she  meant  a  lover,  a  young  man  paying  attention  to 
her,  I  suppose,"  said  Miriam,  laughing. 


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"  Mrs.  Smalley  allowed  her  own  daughter  a  follower*  is  ihe 
servant-maid  above  or  beneath  such  an  adherent  ?  The  servant 
girls  marry,  Miriam,  just  as  frequently  as  their  young  mistresses. 
Indeed,  I  think  there  are  fewer  unmarried  women  among  the 
working  classes  than  among  those  a  little  better  off.  The  maid 
has  a  heai  t,  the  natural  affections  of  a  young  woman ;  she  likes 
to  be  admired,  to  think  that  there  is  some  one  who  esteems  her 
above  all  the  world.  For  fear  of  losing  her  place  and  her  means 
of  livelihood,  she  may  agree  to  have  no  '  follower,'  but  she  will 
have  one  none  the  less.  Prohibited  receiving  him  in  her  neat, 
warm,  well-lighted  kitchen,  in  the  protection  and  respectability 
of  the  household,  she  will  hang  over  the  back-gate,  hide  in  an 
area,  make  an  appointment  at  a  street-corner,  or  at  some  not 
first-class  eating-house.  A  yot/ng-  lady  who  did  this  would  be 
condemned  at  once  and  lose  her  credit;  is  it  any  less  dangerous 
for  the  servant-woman  to  put  herself  in  such  a  position? 
Mistresses  who  claim  to  be  very  particular,  perhaps  even  by  thus 
being  unjustly  particular,  arc  often  responsible  for  the  ruined  life 
and  character  of  some  servant,  whom  their  womanly  sympathy 
and  guardianship  might  have  saved  to  be  a  happy  wife  and  a 
good  mother.  The  compliments  which  your  servant  appreciates, 
the  little  gifts  which  she  accepts,  the  amusements  to  which  she 
is  escorted,  arc  not  those  which  would  suit  your  taste;  but  so 
long  as  they  arc  decent  and  honest,  we  have,  underlying  all,  the 
common  womanhood,  the  common  sentiments  and  instincts  God 
imiilantcd,  and  those  wc  should  recognize  and  respect  in  ((ur 
treatment  of  her." 

"  Then  I  liad  better  allow  a  follower?  "  laughed  Miriam. 

"  You  can  tell  your  new  maid  frankly,  that  you  do  not  think 
it  suitable  for  any  young  woman  to  have  the  calls  of  a  promis- 
cuous troop  of  young  men;  you  should  not  allov  your  own 
daughter,  if  she  were  grown,  liberty  for  anything  of  this  kind; 
neither  do  you  approve  of  a  young  man  coming  every  evening. 


bllower*  is  the 
?  The  servant 
lung  mistresses, 
len  among  the 
off.  The  maid 
man ;  she  likes 
ho  esteems  her 
and  her  means 
2r,'  but  she  will 
m  in  her  neat, 
J  respectability 
ate,  hide  in  an 
r  at  some  not 
this  would  be 
less  dangerous 
:h  a  position? 
is  even  by  thus 

■  the  ruined  life 
anly  sympathy 
ppy  wife  and  a 
int  appreciates, 
5  to  which  she 

■  taste ;  but  so 
crlying  all,  the 
1  instincts  God 
respect  in  our 

1  Miriam, 
u  do  not  think 
Is  of  a  promi.s- 
lov  your  own 
of  this  kind; 
every  evening. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID  IN  THE  HOME.  44" 

er  staying  late;  if  she  has  any  particular  friend,  approvea  by  her 
relatives,  and  of  such  character  as  could  frankly  come  to  a 
gentleman's  house,  then  she  can  receive  him,  and  you  will  trust 
her  to  treat  you  openly  and  honorably  in  regard  to  him.  It  will 
not  be  hard  for  Mark  to  find  out  something  of  the  real  character 
of  this  friend ;  if  it  is  vicious,  you  cannot  allow  him  to  come  tc 
your  house;  you  owe  it  to  yourself  and  to  your  maid  to  forbid 
him  the  premises,  and  to  warn  her  of  her  danger  in  the  acquaint- 
ance.  You  are  the  girl's  God-ordained  guardian  while  she  is 
with  you.  If  her  friend  is  of  the  right  sort,  try,  by  the  advice 
which  you  occasionally  drop,  and  by  the  reading  which  you  put 
in  her  way,  to  give  her  a  sense  of  her  duty:  of  the  need  of  thrift 
and  careful  preparation  for  married  life." 

"Why,"  said  Miriam,  looking  very  grave,  "this  hiring  a  maid 
means  then  a  good  deal  more  than  simply  to  get  some  one  to 
wash  dishes,  bake,  iron,  sweep  and  dust." 

"Indeed  it  does,"  I  rejoined;  "it  is  taking  into  your  family 
band  another  pilgrim  bound  for  eternity;  here  is  another  human 
soul  come  into  your  keeping;  not  white  and  unwritten  like  the 
soul  of  the  little  child,  all  open  to  your  inscribing,  but  much  of 
false  teaching  and  evil  habits,  of  preconceived  notions,  of  fixed 
opinions,  may  be  there  to  combat  your  efforts  to  lead  them  in 
the  right  way." 

"  Wiiat  a  responsibility!"  cried  Miriam;  "  b-it  give  me  one  or 
two  plain  and  simple  rul  .-s,  so  that  I  may  feel,  resting  on  them, 
that  I  have  some  solid  g.ouml  beneath  my  feet.  I  want  some 
starting-point  for  my  new  work." 

"  I  give  you  the  same  which  possibly  I  have  given  you  in 
regard  to  children— for  in  many  respects  our  servants  come  to 
us  on  the  plane  of  children.  Have  laws  like  those  of  the  Medes 
and  Persians— unalterable  laws,  so  that  they  shall  know  what  to 
depend  upon  ;  and  have  privileges  like  an  Englishman's  housa 
Which  is  liis  inviolate  castle.     Don't  let  servants  think  that  you 


I    '! 


^Wi' 


ihf 


\  -f 


"i        V 


ls!;,.f 


\    . 


-jI 


I  ! 


m: 


« 


'I 


448 


7iV£    COMPLETE   HOME. 


do  not  mean  the  thing  which  you  say,  either  in  your  own  be- 
half or  in  theirs.  When  you  promise  them  a  favor,  keep  your 
promise;  respect  their  privileges;  be  cordial  in  giving  them  their 
holiday  afternoons;  all  work,  unrelieved  by  amusement,  makes 
any  one  dull  and  listless ;  it  is  bad  fbx  morals,  health,  and  for 
brains;  uninterrupted  work  is  intolerable:  it  comes  at  last  to  tor- 
ture us,  like  that  famous  dropping  of  water.  I  have  known  a 
maid  so  heartless,  that  after  two  years  of  service,  where  she  was 
kindly  treated,  she  coolly  walked  off  to  take  her  Thursday  half- 
holiday,  asking  no  questions,  making  no  apologic3,  and  leaving 
her  mistress  bending  over  the  bed  of  a  dying  child.  That  was 
one  instance  of  brutality.  I  have  known  many  instances  where 
the  servant  voluntarily  and  cheerfully  changed  her  afternoon 
out,  or  gave  it  up  entirely  because  of  guests,  or  sickness,  or  be- 
cause of  some  work  which  she  saw  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to 
her  mistress  to  have  out  of  the  way.  Where  there  is  kind  con- 
sideration shown  on  the  one  hand,  it  is  usually  reciprocated  on 
the  other,  and  in  virtue  of  her  position  the  mistress  must  take 
the  initiative  in  this  interchange  of  good  ■^'llices." 

It  is  a  cardinal  point  in  the  creed  of  ■=>  persons  that  servants 
are  a  trial  and  a  nuisance,  and  that  it  is  a  great  cross  to  be 
obliged  to  keep  them.  This  is  a  false  idea.  To  take  service  is, 
and  always  must  be,  one  of  the  ways  in  which  a  large  number 
of  human  beings  get  their  living;  other  human  beings  who  have 
house-room,  money,  and  work,  must  then  take  these  people  in ; 
this  is  one  of  their  duties  to  the  world  at  large,  and  one  of  the 
things  which  the  Lord  set  for  them  to  do,  in  the  way  of  provid- 
ing for  their  fellows,  as  he  provides  for  them. 

I  think  the  next  person  with  whom  I  conversed  on  this  sub» 
ject  was  Mary  Watkins.  She  came  to  me  one  day  saying  that 
she  had  made  arrangements  *o  take  a  girl  of  fifteen  from  a  city 
institution,  and  keep  her  until  she  was  twenty-one. 

Said  Mary :  "  I  hope  she  will  be  a  good  girl  to  me,  and  I  want 


'■our  own  be* 
)r,  keep  your 
tig  them  their 
;ment,  makes 
:alth,  and  for 
at  last  to  tor- 
ave  known  a 
'here  she  was 
hursday  Iialf- 
,  and  leaving 
d.  That  was 
itances  where 
ler  afternoon 
kness,  or  be- 
i  pleasure  to 
:  is  kind  con- 
:iprocated  on 
33  must  take 

that  servants 
cross  to  be 
ke  service  is, 
arge  number 
igs  who  have 
se  people  in ; 
d  one  of  the 
ly  of  provid- 

on  this  sub. 
r  saying  that 
n  from  a  city 

e,and  I  want 


MISTRESS  AND  MAW   IN  THE   HOME.  449 

to  be  a  good  mistress  to  her.  I  should  be  sorry  if  she  finished 
her  stay  with  me  without  being  in  every  way  better  for  it;  what 
main  methods  shall  I  take  loi  her  improvement?  You  know  I 
have  very  little  experience  with  servants,  for  hitherto  I  have 
had  none  but  a  little  ten-year-old  from  the  village,  and  my 
mother  did  not  keep  help  after  I  was  twelve  years  old." 

"The  foundation,  Mary,"  I  replied,  "of  good  character  and 
efficiency  in  service  lies  in  sound  religious  principle;  this  stim- 
ulates  zeal,  unselfishness,  honesty  that  is  above  eye-service ;  :/ 
furnishes   something   in  the  servant   to   be    relied   upon.     We 
should  give  our  servants  all  the  religious  help  possible.    A  Bible 
should  always  be  furnished  for  the  servant's  room;  the  work 
should  be  managed  so  that  she  can  go  to  church  at  least  once 
weekly;  she  should  always  be  at  fomily  prayers.     If  you  see  hej 
indulging  in  unchristian  conduct,  give  a  Christian  admonition; 
endeavor  to  furnish  good  reading'for  her  leisure  hours  on  Sab- 
bath; do  not  cyoect  the  maid  to  enjoy  a  volume  of  sermons,  noi 
Baxter's  'Saints'  Rest;'  the  young,  robust,  and  partially  cdu 
cated,  do  not  take  to  writing  of  this  kind,  but  they  will  enjojr 
'  Pilgrims'  Progress,'  a  religious  magazine,  a  church  paper,  the 
'Tales  of  the  Covenanters'  or  of  the  Waldcnsiaas.     Show  your 
friendly  interest  in  your  maid  by  giving  her  a  decent  room. 
Don't  give  a  mass  of  ragged  bed-clothes,  a  poor  tick  and  pillow, 
and  begrudge  a  clean  sheet  and  pillow-case  each  week.     Don't 
ask  her  to  be  neat,  and  then  give  her  no  appliances  for  het 
toilette,  so  that  she  must  wash  and  comb  in  the  kitchen.     Put  a 
bowl,  pitcher  and  comb-case  in  her  room;  a  chair;  a  stand  for 
her  light  and  books;  a  pincushion;  at  least  one  strip  of  carpel 
by  the  bed;  put  up  hooks  for  her  clothes,  and  do  not  deny  her 
the  decency  of  a  curtain  to  the  window;  if  you  can  spare  her  a 
little  bureau,  or  a  chest  of  drawers,  so  much  the  better,  and  a 
shoe-box.     Her  room  thus  tidy  and  well  equipped  when  sh, 
goes  into  it,  you  can  impress  upon  her  the  need  of  keeping  it  ju 


''im 


\\ 


m 


11  p 


i 


ffli 

mi 'Si'  ■. 


il 


450 


7  ■///■:   COjr/^£T£  HOME. 


nice  as  any  part  of  the  house ;  and  where  there  is  atiy  neglect, 
remark  upon  it  immediately. 

"Girls  who  have  a  comfortable  room  furnished  them  generally 
appreciate  it.  I  remember  a  girl  coming  to  Mrs.  Burr  and 
being  sent  up  to  her  tidy  room,  where  there  was,  among  other 
things,  an  illuminated  text  on  the  wall,  and  a  pot  of  flowers  in 
the  window.  She  came  straight  down  before  laying  off  her 
bonnet,  and  said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  '  I  came  to  thank  you 
for  such  a  nice  room.  It  looks  just  as  if  you  wanted  to  make 
me  comfortable  and  self-respecting,  and  I  shall  try  to  do  my 
very  best  for  you.' 

"  Be  careful,  also,  and  treat  your  servant  kindly,  while  you  do 
not  forget  or  fail  in  your  own  position.  Don't  think  because 
you  have  a  right  to  command  that  it  is  best  to  be  forever 
issuing  orders ;  there  is  no  law  against  your  uttering  requests. 
Another  important  point  is — not  only  for  the  good  of  the  ser- 
vants, but  of  your  children — see  to  it  that  the  children  treat 
your  hired  help  with  courtesy.  Teach  them  to  say  '  please ' 
and  'thank  you.'  See  to  it  that  they  do  not  wantonly  make 
work,  and  that  they  heed  requests  and  remonstrances,  and  do 
not  allow  them  to  hinder  the  girl  when  she  is  busy.  I  have 
seen  children  so  shamefully  ill-bred,  that  they  would  come  in 
when  a  girl  had  just  finished  a  weary  scrubbing  of  a  floor,  and 
tramp  about  on  the  wet  wood  with  dirty  feet,  just  for  the  sake  of 
soiling  it,  or  throw  mud  on  a  nc;wly  cleaned  window,  or  slop 
water  over  a  stove  or  table,  merely  to  vex  the  doer  of  this  hard 
cleaning  work.  Do  what  you  car.  to  lighten  work  :  not  in  the 
way  of  allowing  neglect,  for  that  never  really  makes  anything 
easier,  but  by  furnishing  any  possible  appliances  to  make  the 
work  easier.  If  you  can  afford  a  clothes-wringer,  and  a  box- 
line  protector  for  the  clothes-line,  and  a  drain  for  suds  opening 
near  the  washtubs,  have  tbcic  thinn"s  to  lifditen  toil.  Have 
posts  set  firmly  for  your  clothes-lines,  with  bars  or  hooks  for 


M/Sr/l£SS  AND  MAID   IN  THE   HOME. 


451 


festcnins  the  line;  for  what  is  more  vexing  or  exhausting 
than  to  spend  a  long  time  in  sun,  frost  or  wind  trying  to  tie  up 
a  hne  for  which  no  proper  provision  has  been  made,  or,  after  all 
one's  tedious  efforts,  to  have  the  clothes  turiible  down  in  the 
ilirt,  and  all  needing  to  be  rinsed  over  again  ? 

"  Try  to  set  your  maid  a  good  example,  and  give  her  good 
advice  in  matters  personal  to  herself  Teach  her  how  to  make, 
mend  and  cut  out  clothes:  what  a  blessing  and  saving  this' 
knowledge  will  be  in  her  future  home !  Do  not  set  her  an 
example  of  untidiness  by  sending  ragged  clothes  into  the  wash, 
and  letting  her  see  you  using  things  that  need  mending.  Let 
her  realize  that  you  think  it  a  positive  duty  to  darn  your 
stockings,  mend  all  your  clothes  neatly,  and  turn  all  that  you 
have  to  the  best  use. 

"  I  commended  a  poor  woman  once  for  being  a  nice  house- 
keeper, and  said:  '  You  seem  to  have  some  witchcraft  in  making 
things  last  long."  • 

"  She  answered:  '  It  is  all  owing  to  a  good  example  that  I  had 
when  living  out.  My  mistress  never  let  anything  go  to  waste. 
When  the  sheets  began  to  wear,  they  were  turned ;  as  needed, 
they  were  darned  and  patched ;  and  when  large  sheets  gave' 
out,  they  were  made  over  into  narrow  ones  for  single  beds. 
Table-cloths  were  darned  in  every  little  break,  and  when  too 
much  worn  for  the  table,  they  were  cut  into  towels  and  fringed 
or  hemmed  for  use  over  bread,  pies,  cake  and  so  on,  in  pantry 
and  cellar.  The  pillow-cases  were  darned  neatly  where  they 
cracked ;  so  were  towels ;  and  old  towels  were  doubled  and 
sewed  into  neat  wash-cloths.  An  old  crumb-cloth,  long  darned 
and  mended,  when  finally  worn  out,  made  us  first-rate  kitchen- 
towels.  Nothing  was  wasted  or  neglected.  As  with  the  house- 
linen,  so  with  tlie  family  clothes.  You  should  have  seen  the 
neat  mending;  the  fine  darns  in  stockings  .qnd  handkerchief?; 
the  rough  edges  of  petticoats   turned  in  and  oversewn;  the 


11 


I 


'  llr'f 


Si 

1   '    * 

l>    '■  i 

M 

»L.Zi»*-^ 

452 


7 //A'    COMPLETE  HOME. 


worn  edges  of  collars  and  cuffs  trimmed  with  a  ruffle  of  lace.  1 
learned  there  that  things  take  a  long  while  to  wear  out :  they  go 
from  use  to  use  for  years.' 

"  Now  this  woman  on  very  narrow  means  was  rearing  a  family 
of  children  in  decency,  and  making  her  little  girls  as  wise  and 
thrifty  as  herself.  How  far  had  the  example  of  that  faithful 
housekeeper  extended  for  good !  And,  finally,  for  I  am  talking 
altogether  too  long,  and  felling  you  more  than  you  are  likely 
to  remember,  govern  your  own  conduct  to  your  servants  by 
principle,  and  they  will  be  influenced  by  your  example  to  be 
well  principled  in  their  conduct  to  you.  Nothing  is  so  potent 
as  good  example  in  securing  respect  and  imitation.  Don't  lose 
your  temper ;  reprove  with  firmness,  calmness  and  moderation.'* 

When  Sara  set  up  housekeeping,  her  mother-in-law,  Mrs. 
Winton,  gave  her  some  good  counsel  about  her  maids.  She 
said :  - 

"  Let  them  look  for  your  coming  where  they  work  as  an 
encouragement,  because  you  will  help  them  to  see  their  work 
more  clearly,  and  you  will  be  able  to  suggest  good  methods  for 
doing  it  well  and  quickly.  Let  them  expect  your  presence  as 
an  incentive,  because  you  will  kindly  commend  what  is  good. 
The  kitchen-maid  has  been  scrubbing,  polishing,  window- 
washing,  until  she  is  really  tired  and  uncomfortable.  You 
come  in  and  remark:  'Ah,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  come  into  such  a 
neat  kitchen  as  this.'  You  happen  to  go  to  the  tin-closet, 
orderly  and  shining ;  you  remark : '  This  closet  is  a  treat  to  look 
at :  it  does  you  great  credit.'  The  girl  is  saving.  She  tries  out, 
clarifies  and  strains  drippings  ;  saves  bread-crumbs  for  dressing 
cutlets  or  fish  ;  makes  a  nice  white  bone-soup ;  takes  pains  with 
your  property  as  if  she  had  herself  paid  for  it;  and  you  say: 
•  I  am  pleased  that  you  are  so  thrifty :  it  is  useful  to  me,  and  will 
be  ver}'  useful  to  you.  The  young  sr.an  who  secures  such  a 
wife  will  be  fgrtunatc.'     Now  these  commendations  go  a  great 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID  }J\I  THE  HOME. 


453 


uffle  of  lace.  1 
:ar  out :  they  ga 

rearing  a  family 
iris  as  wise  and 

of  that  faithful 
for  I  am  talking 

you  are  likely 
)ur  servants  by 

example  to  be 
ing  is  so  potent 
on.  Don't  lose 
nd  moderation.' 
ler-in-law,  Mrs. 
ler  maids.     She 

ley  work  as  an 
see  their  work 
3od  methods  for 
our  presence  as 
\  what  is  good, 
shing,  windo^v- 
nfortablc.  You 
ime  into  such  a 
»  the  tin-closet, 
s  a  treat  to  look 
She  tries  out, 
lbs  for  dressing 
takes  pains  with 
;  and  you  say: 
[  to  me,  and  will 
secures  such  a 
tions  go  a  great 


Ways:  they  pay  for  over-weariness.  The  maid  feels  rested  and 
refreshed  by  a  good  word,  and  is  stirred  to  go  on  to  better  and 
better  things.  Again,  the  servant  should  look  for  your  pres- 
ence as  a  warning  against  carelessness.  Don't  go  into  a  kit- 
chen, find  things  going  wrong,  and,  sighing  hopelessly,  retread 
discouraged.  You  go  into  the  kitchen  and  see  that  after  break- 
fast the  dish-towels  were  not  washed ;  the  sink  has  been  wiped 
out,  but  is  not  really  clean;  there  is  dust  left  in  the  corners; 
the  hearth  is  untidy ;  the  broom  stands  on  the  brush  and  not 
on  the  handle.     Speak  promptly  to  the  point. 

" '  Catherine !  see  how  you  have  left  your  broom  ;  hang  it  up 
when  you  are  done  with  it ;  but  now,  before  hanging  it  up,  take 
it  and  sweep  your  kitchen  nicely — see  the  dust  left  in  these 
corners.  I  see  you  have  forgotten  my  rule  about  washing  these 
towels ;  now  I  shall  put  them  into  this  pan,  and  put  hot  water 
and  soft  soap  on  them ;  as  soon  as  the  kitchen  is  swept,  wash 
these  towels  well  and  hang  them  up ;  then  add  some  sal-soda  to 
the  suds  left  and  scrub  out  this  sink  carefully ;  if  you  rub  your 
finger  on  the  inside  you  will  see  that  it  is  greasy.  Never  think, 
C'atherine,  that  time  or  strength  are  saved  by  carelessness.  I 
hope  I  shall  not  see  this  neglect  again.'  Let  ♦  ;  servants  feel 
that  your  quick  eye  will  note  every  omission,  and  that  you  will 
not  fear  to  correct  it." 

One  day,  when  we  were  visiting  Hester,  she  said  to  Mrs, 
Winton :  "  Why  are  servants  so  poor  and  so  much  complained 
of  now-a-days  ?  The  race  of  reliable  maids  seems  dying  out, 
I  have  excellent  servants,  but  most  people  complain." 

"The  reason  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Winton,  "First,  that  of  late 
young  women  have  grown  up  in  ignorance  of  housekeeping,  and 
do  not  understand  how  to  manage  either  house  or  maid :  poor 
mistresses  make  poor  maids. 

"Second.  It  has  become  the  fashion  to  compialn  of  the  liircd 
help;  mistresses  have  fallen  into  a  habit  of  exaggerating  faults 


li 


im 


Mi 


454 


Tim   COMPLETE  HOME, 


and  making  themselves  out  to  be  martyrs :  little  comes  whence 
little  is  expected. 

"  Third.  We  have  fallen  into  an  emulous  habit  of  keeping  too 
many  servants;  several  maids,  none  of  wliom  have  full  occu- 
pation, quarrel,  neglect  their  work,  assigning  it  to  others,  and 
realize  the  proverb  that  Satan  finds  mischief  for  idle  hands. 
Better  to  have  too  few  servants  than  too  many ;  don't  call  in  extra 
help  because  the  neighbors  have  more  maids  than  you,  but 
because  you  absolutely  need  more  help.  A  friend  of  mine  with  q 
large  family,  finding  that  with  four  servants  her  work  was  nevei 
done,  and  could  not  get  done,  instead  of  hiring  a  fifth,  discharged 
one  of  those  which  she  had,  and  remarked  that  then  if  the  work 
were  not  properly  done  she  would  try  keeping  but  two  servants; 
there  was  no  more  trouble,  the  work  was  done  on  time,  well 
done,  and  no  one  was  overtaxed. 

"The  fourth  reason  for  our  poor  servants  is,  that  they  are 
discharged  on  small  pretexts;  one  does  not  try  to  mend 
matters  by  keeping  and  teaching  them,  but  by  dismissing  them. 
They  half  learn  the  ways  of  a  dozen  or  a  score  of  families,  but 
never  wholly  master  those  of  one.  Families  go  into  the  country 
or  to  the  coast  for  six  months,  or  four  months,  and  turn  off  the 
help,  or  some  of  them,  and  expect  the  next  fall  and  winter  to 
hire  others  who  will  look  to  a  similarly  short  term  of  service. 
Who  can  expect  good  help  in  such  circumstances  ? 

"  Fifth.  We  have  poor  servants  because  we  hire  them  too 
hastily ;  we  do  not  scrutinize  their  antecedents  and  characters, 
and  we  are  not  particular  enough  to  tell  thcni  exactly  our 
rules. 

"  Sixth.  We  are  often  too  indolent  to  have  household  laws,  oi 
if  we  have  them  to  execute  them.  Our  domestic  judiciary  and 
executive  are  both  weak  and  insufficient.  If  we  would  only  say 
what  we  mean,  and  mean  what  we  say,  our  servants  would  obcj 
better. 


;omcs  whence 

f  keepinjj  too 
.ve  full  occu- 
D  others,  and 
r  idle  hands, 
t  call  in  extra 
han  you,  but 
)f  mine  with  q 
Drk  was  nevci 
th,  discharged 
:n  if  the  work 
two  servants; 
on  time,  well 

that  they  are 
try  to  mend 
Tiissing  them, 
f  families,  but 

0  the  country 
d  turn  off  the 
and  winter  to 
•m  of  service. 
? 

lire  them  too 
nd  characters, 

1  exactly  our 

chold  laws,  oi 
judiciary  and 
ould  only  say 
ts  would  obcj 


MISTHESS  AA'D   MAID  IN    THE   HOME. 


•log 


"The  seventh  reason  for  our  having  poor  servants  is,  that 
we  do  not  realize  the  blessing  and  comfort  there  is  in  good 
ones;  we  say  we  like  a  good  cook,  a  nurse  who  keeps  the 
children  clean  and  quiet,  a  housemaid  who  dusts  thoroughly, 
soaks  her  brooms  once  a  month  in  boiling  suds,  hangs  them  up 
when  she  has  finished  using  them,  and  sweeps  with  a  long,  even 
stroke,  keeping  her  broom  to  the  floor,  and  not  flinging  the 
dust  into  the  air;  but  we  mention  our  liking  these  good 
qualities  much  as  we  say  we  like  a  horse  that  docs  not  shy,  a 
cow  that  does  not  kick,  a  chicken  which  is  fat  and  tender.  We 
do  not  comprehend  that  this  sei-vant  may  be  in  sorrow  a  self- 
forgetting  sympathizer;  in  sickness  a  devoted  nurse;  in  losses  a 
staunch  adherent ;  that  her  devotion  being  deserved  may  become 
as  intense  as  that  of  our  nearest  relations,  that  she  may  serve 
our  children  with  almost  maternal  self-abnegation." 

If  there  is  any  one  who  can  appreciate  these  remarks  about 
a  faithful  domestic,  I  think  I  should  be  able  to.  Martha 
has  for  years  been  with  me,  devoted  to  my  interests,  regarding 
all  my  joys  and  sorrows  as  her  own.  She  takes  the  greatest 
pride  in  my  nieces'  children,  and  is  constantly  thinking  of  some 
way  in  which  she  can  benefit  them  or  their  mothers.  When 
Miriam  has  had  sickness  in  her  family,  or  her  servant  has  been 
obliged  to  be  ;  ^nt  for  a  day,  Martha  has  risen  early  and 
retired  late,  thai  she  might  not  only  do  my  work,  but  bake,  or 
iron,  or  cook  for  Miriam.  All  that  Hannah  has  of  efficiency  as 
a  servant  she  owes  to  Martha,  who  took  her  in  hand,  taught  her, 
instructed  her  to  consider  Helen's  interests  as  her  own,  helped 
her,  persuaded  her  lo  remain  in  her  place  and  not  run  from 
family  to  family ;  and  really  Hannah  is  now  a  very  good  maid,  and 
a  great  blessing  to  Helen,  who  could  hardly  get  on  without  her. 

Martha,  besides  having  good  habits,  a  good  heart,  an  honest 
conscience  and  a  readiness  to  learn,  has  also  good  brains,  and 
she  invents  things  for  herself;  meanw'.iile,  she  reads  and  remem- 


\ 


■( 

'4    '1! 


1,     ;■( 


•       t. 


Ui 


456 


T//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


bers.  She  has  culled  recipes  and  hints  about  housekeeping 
from  numerous  papers  and  books,  and  has  pasted  them  in 
several  scrap-books,  which  she  kept  in  the  kitchen  on*  the  shelf 
v'ith  her  Bible,  her  hymn-book,  and  perhaps  some  other  book 
which  she  was  reading.  Seeing  her  interest  in  these  things,  and 
anxious  to  gratify  her,  I  went  to  Mr.  Smalley,  and  had  him 
make  me  four  little  book-shelves,  swung  on  a  stout  cord :  they 
were  made  of  white  wood,  and  stained  dark.  These  I  hung  up 
in  the  kitchen  between  the  windows,  and  then  I  carried  in  and 
placed  on  them  various  books  which  I  have  on  house-work, 
cooking  and  the  like — "  Mrs.  Glasse's  Cookery,"  good  if  old, 
"  The  British  Housewife,"  "  Blot's  Lectures,"  and  a  number  of 
others.  Martha  was  highly  gratified  by  this  attention,  and  I 
often  find  her,  when  her  work  "S  done,  poring  over  these  vol- 
umes. I  have  frequently  given  Martha  books — religious  books 
— a  story  or  two,  and  once  I  took  a  magazine  for  her  for  a  year 
or  two.  It  was  not  exactly  such  a  magazine  as  I  would  have 
preferred  for  myself,  but  it  was  simple  and  varied  in  contents, 
and  suited  Martha  so  well  that  she  had  the  numbers  bound. 

I  have  found  the  good  of  Martha's  brains  in  various  little  con- 
trivances. One  year  I  thought  our  well-water  was  not  very 
good,  and  I  meant  to  have  a  new  well  dug.  I  said  I  must 
get  meanwhile  a  filter ;  there  was  none  in  the  village,  and  before 
I  could  send  to  town,  Martha  made  a  filter.  She  bought  a  very 
large  common  red  earthen  flower-pot,  with  a  hole  in  the  bottom. 
She  set  this  in  the  top  of  the  water-cooler,  where  it  just  fitted 
when  the  lid  was  taken  off;  she  put  in  the  flower-pot,  first,  a 
layer  of  nice  brook-pebbles,  then  a  layer  of  sand  from  the  brook, 
then  one  of  charcoal,  broken  pretty  small :  she  repeated  these 
layers  until  they  filled  the  pot.  Then  on  the  pot  she  set  a 
water-bucket,  with  a  small  augur  hole  bored  in  the  bottom ;  in 
the  pail  she  poured  the  water  for  filtering:  it  jx-rcolated  the 
various  layers  in  the  flower-pot,  entering  the  cooler  pure,  as  if 


MISTRESS  AND  MAW  IN  THE  HOME. 


467 


housekeeping 
sted  them  in 
1  on  the  shelf 
»e  other  book 
se  things,  and 
and  had  him 
lit  cord :  they 
ese  I  hung  up 
:arried  in  and 
1  house-work, 

good  if  old, 
a  number  of 
ention,  and  I 
.'er  these  vol< 
ligious  books 
licr  for  a  year 
[  would  have 
1  in  contents, 
rs  bound, 
ous  little  con- 
was  not  very 

bdid  I  must 
je,  and  before 
Jought  a  very 
n  the  bottom. 

it  just  fitted 
er-pot,  first,  a 
)m  the  brook, 
^peated  these 
lot  she  set  a 
le  bottom ;  in 
ercolatcd  tlic 
ler  pure,  as  if 


it  had  passed  through  the  best  patent  filter.  Mary  Watkins  was 
much  pleased  with  this  piece  of  ingenuity.  She  said :  "  If  I 
only  had  a  cooler,  I  would  arrange  a  filter  in  that  way,  for  our 
well-water  is  poor." 

Martha's  ingenuity  extended  over  Mary's  case.  She  said: 
"  Except  for  a  little  trouble  in  lifting  when  you  want  a  pitcher 
of  water,  Mrs.  Watkins,  you  can  do  just  as  well,  if  you  set  the 
flower-pot  in  the  neck  of  a  four  or  six  gallon  stone-jar ;  and  if 
you  pin  around  that  a  piece  of  an  old  blanket,  or  several  thick- 
nesses of  crash  towel,  and  keep  that  wet,  the  water  will  be 
nearly  as  cool  as  ice-water." 

Another  time  I  went  into  the  kitchen,  p.nd  found  Martha  sur- 
veying, with  much  pleasure,  several  rhubarb  pies  and  a  dish  of 
green  currant  sauce.  She  said,  with  an  air  of  triumph:  "Ah! 
I've  got  the  better  of  the  sour  things  this  time!" 

"How  is  that,  Martha?"  I  asked;  "did  you  put  in  extra 
sugar?" 

"No,  indeed,  ma'am;  they've  always  used  too  much  sugar  for 
my  fancy.  No;  I'll  tell  you  what  I  did  :  I  put  the  fruit  to  stew, 
and  when, it  was  half  done  I  put  in  each  pot  a  small,  even  tea- 
spoon of  carbonate  of  soda  (baking  soda),  and  that,  ma'am, 
somehow  ate  up  the  sourness  of  the  fruit,  so  it  wasn't  much 
more  sour  than  dried  peaches,  or  black  cherries,  or  blackberries, 
and  I've  saved  about  half  the  usual  sugar,  and  I've  got  a  pie  that 
tastes  fairly  elegant — indeed  it  do." 

"Why,  Martha,"  I  said,  "you  are  quite  a  chemist." 

"La,  ma'am,  I  saw  how  to  do  it  in  a  book,  and  3o  I  tried,  and 
it's  turned  out  quite  beyond  my  expectations." 

"As  you  have  been  so  saving,  you  had  better  carry  one  of 
those  pies  to  your  sister-in-law  for  her  Sunday  dinner,  and  tell 
her  of  your  new  way  of  sparing  sugar,  and  it  may  help  her 
in  her  housekeeping;  we  should  teach  all  the  economy  we 
learn." 


¥\ 


1, 


i  ?  ■ 


^1  'f 


^lli.iii^ii^ 


iiS" 


I?' 


I 


458 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


A  servant  so  faithful  and  thor^htful,  one  would  say,  deserves 
all  the  little  aids  and  conveniences  that  can  be  given  her ;  I  havtf 
been  careful,  since  Martha,  like  myself,  is  growing  elderly,  to 
have  a  comfortable  rocking-chair  in  the  kitchen  for  her  to  rest 
in;  and  I  have  placed  her  in  a  room  over  the  kitchen  where 
there  is  a  drum  from  the  kitchen  stove,  so  that  in  cold  woathci 
she  will  be  comfortable.  Much  cf  Martha's  faithful  thought- 
fulness,  however,  comes  from  the  instruction  and  good  treat- 
ment which  she  has  always  received  from  me ;  she  would  say 
so  hersflf. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  good  which  one  can  do  to  the  public 
at  large  by  faithfully  training  their  servants,  I  will  mention  the 
case  of  three  maiden  ladies  whom  I  know  in   my  youth.     In 
those  days  we  received  many  Irish  emigrants,  young  girls  come 
over  to  seek  service— "raw  Irish"  they  were  called,  and  indeed 
they  were  very  raw.     Wages  were  then  very  low;  a  dollar  or  a 
dollar  an:'  a  quarter  a  week  was  a  large  price  in  the  towns,  and 
in  the  ci(y  a  dollar  fifty  and  a  dollar  seventy-five  was  handsome, 
while  two  dollars  was  enormous  pay.'    In  the  small  towns  wages 
sank  below  a  dollar  to  seventy-five,  fifty,  forty,  even  twenty- 
five  cents  for  "  the  raw  Irish."     In  those  days  dry-goods  were 
low,  and  eight  yards  of  calico  made  a  maid  a  decent  frock! 
These  ladies  of  whom  I  speak  were  admirable    housekeepers ; 
being  in  narrow  circumstances,  they  could  not  afford  to  give  the 
wages  of  a  skilled  servant,  besides  they  felt  that  they  had  a  duty 
to  the  strangers  on  our  shores,  and  that  one  of  their  modest 
ways  of  doing  good  might  be  to  take  some  of  these  emigrants 
and  make  them  useful  women.     Accordingly,  they  always  took 
a  new  Irish  girl ;  she  could  not  be  so  ignorant  as  to  dan'ip  theif 
zeal.     They  taught  her  personal  neatness;  .saw  to  it  that  she 
bathed,  combed  her  hair,  and  cleaned  her  teeth  ;  they  taught  hcf 
to  mend  her  clothes,  put  in  order  all  that  she  brought  with  her, 
which  was  little;  and  though  they  gave  but  thirty-seven  cenU 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID  IN   THE   HOME. 


459 


m  wages,  they  were  able,  among  the  three,  to  provide  her  many 
good  garments  by  teaching  her  to  make  over  their  own  laid-by 
clothes ;  they  taught  her  to  fit  and  make  her  dresses ;  to  make  a 
neat  bonnet ;  on  Christmas  she  got  a  good  new  shawl  or  coat/ 
she  was  taught  to  read,  and,  if  she  had  any  aptitude,  to  write; 
she  was  also  taught  plain  cooking,  bread-making,  house vvork, 
laundry  vvork — all  of  the  best  variety.  No  girl  left  service  with 
them  without  knowing  how  to  read,  sew,  and  do  general  house- 
work ;  then  when  a  year  and  a  half  or  two  years  had  put  her  in 
possession  of  these  s,  the  good  ladies  sought  among  their 
friends,  who  always  were  eager  to  get  a  girl  of  their  training, 
and  found  her  a  place,  where  she  got  a  dollar  or  a  dollar  and 
a  quarter  a  week,  while  they  took  another  case  of  raw  help  to 
develop  into  industrious,  capable  womanhood.  Doubtless  they 
had  a  score  of  these  girls,  some  staying  less  time  than  the  others, 
all  leaving  them  well  equipped  for  life;  and  these  .se  ^'ants,  in- 
stead of  being  shiftless,  vicious,  dirty  pauper-makers,  finally 
jettlcd  into  decent  and  thrifty  homes  of  their  own.  Who  can 
estimate  the  value  of  these  good  ladies  to  the  town  in  which  theV 
lived,  to  the  state,  to  humanity  at  large? 


f  I 


(^ 


4'Si4lV' 


I 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

HOW  TO  MAKE   HOME   HAPPY. 
AUNT  SOPHRONIA   TELLS   HOW   TO    DO   IT. 

[AMES  FREDERICK  BLACK  is  by  no  means  the  least 
promising  of  our  young  men.  He  has  been  very  inti- 
mate with  the  Winton  boys;  our  minister  thinks  a 
great  deal  of  him ;  he  is  fond  of  asking  deep  and  far- 
reaching  questions,  and  he  tries  to  improve ;  so,  in  spite  of 
various  disadvantages  in  Home-training,  I  think  James  Fred- 
erick will  turn  out  veiy  well.  I  hope  so,  I'm  sure,  not  only  for 
his  own  sake,  but  he  is  paying  attention  to  Cousin  Ann's 
younger  daughter,  and  I  think  a  great  deal  of  her.  Speaking 
of  the  questions  which  James  Frederick  likes  to  ask  reminds 
me  of  one  that  he  put  to  me  recently.  Mrs.  Burr  had  a  very 
'•irgc  gathering  at  her  house  celebrating  her  silver-wedding. 
She  usually  invites  a  number  of  friends  on  each  of  her  wedding 
anniversaries,  but  on  this  especial  occasion  almost  every  one  in 
our  village  and  in  the  neighboring  country  was  asked.  Of 
course  there  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  family  life,  home 
duties  and  so  forth.  By-and-by  James  Frederick  and  one  of  the 
Wintons  came  to  me,  and  said : 

'Aunt  Sophronia,  y^u  are  to  tell   Uh  how  to  make  Home 
happy,  and  give  the  means  of  doing  so  in  one  word." 

I  thought  for  a  minute  or  two  what  phrase  would  cover  the 
most  ground,  and  said  :  "  Good  management." 
They  went   off  to  a  group  of  young  people,  apparently  to 

report  my  answer,  and  James  Frederick  returned,  saying, 
(400) 


cans  the  least 
leen  very  inti- 
ster  thinks  a 
deep  and  far- 
I,  in  spite  of 

James  Fred- 
:,  not  only  for 
Cousin  Ann's 
;r.     Speaking 

ask  reminds 
rr  had  a  very 
;Ivcr-wedding. 
'  her  wedding 

every  one  in 
s  asked.  Of 
ily  life,  home 
,nd  one  of  the 

make  Home 
1." 
uld  cover  the 

apparently  to 
saying, 


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'.'.''Jf'tl 


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FTd'rrick  U",.cs  to  ask  rrmrnds 


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tist  every  one  in 


diborii 


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nn"r  i"V(?dcridc  and  nnc  of  the 


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<een  vciy  inli- 
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I  rcd- 

■in   Ann's 
Speakino; 

>  nsk  remmd.-. 
.  '   .1  very 

:!.!:nir. 

:■  uvudiil^ 

■ry  one  in 

.    .ked.     Of 

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w 

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1 

r 


HOW  rO   MAKE  HOME    HAPPY. 


4G1 


"That  word  would  include  a  great  deal,  would  it  not?" 
"Certainly,"  I  replied;  "the  good  management  must  extend 
to  health,  finances,  order,  the  training  of  children,  our  social 
duties,  the  making  the  best  of  our  possessions,  so  that  we  shall 
secure  from  them  the  largest  amount  of  comfo.  \  You  may 
have  in  your  pantry,  or  on  a  table,  all  the  component  parts  of  a 
pound-cake,  but  unless  they  are  judiciously  put  together  you 
will  have  no  cake.  So  you  may  have  this,  that  and  the  other 
element  of  happy  home  making,  but  unless  they  are  wisely 
brought  together  and  blended  you  will  not  have  a  happy 
home." 

"  Homes  where  all  these  elements  are  so  nicely  blended," 
said  James  Frederick,  "  are  so  few,  that  I  fear  some  great, 
exceptional,  overpowering  genius,  some  Michael  Angelo  of  the 
Home,  is  needed  for  the  infinitely  varied  task." 

"  No,  James  Frederick ;  it  is  merely  conscientious  persever> 
ance  in  little  things  which  is  demanded.  It  has  been  well  said 
that  'To  do  common  things  perfectly  is  far  better  worth  our 
endeavor  than  to  do  uncommon  things  respectably.'  " 

About  a  week  after  this  Martha  suggested  that  Miriam  had 
desired  me  to  spend  the  afternoon  with  her.  She  artfully  con- 
trived that  I  should  wear  my  best  gown  and  head-gear.  About 
half-past  six  Martha  came  after  me,  saying  that  a  friend  wanted 
me.  I  went  home  and  found  my  house  warmed  and  lighted 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  I  caught  sight  of  the  dining-table, 
drawn  to  its  fullest  length,  with  all  my  silver  displayed,  and  a 
great  pyramid  of  fancy  cakes  and  macaroons,  for  which  Martha 
is  famous.  The  Blacks  and  Hester  were  in  the  parlor.  I  saw 
that  Martha  had  joined  a  surprise-party  conspiracy.  Presently 
other  guests  came  until  there  were  about  twenty-five  young 
people,  and  James  Frederick  informed  me  that  they  had  come 
expresslv  to  hear  mc  expound  liovj  to  vto.kc  UofHC  h(if>f>V:  No 
other  conversation  was  to  be  allowed.    The  young  ladies  had 


!  ^'' 


i 


I 


k^ 


'■t 


.A.         .    i 


,1 1-1 


if; 


r 
■  I 


462 


r//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


brought  baskets,  of  their  best  culinary  samples,  to  prove  that,  as 
far  as  cooking  went,  they  could  make  home  very  happy  indeed. 
In  an  instant  the  chairs  were  drawn  around  me  in  a  double 
circle. 

"  Begin,"  cried  Dick,  autocratically. 

"  Where  shall  I  begin  ?  You  have  taken  me  so  by  surprise, 
that  I  begin  to  feel  as  if  I  never  so  much  as  heard  of  the  insti- 
tution called  Home,  nor  how  it  could  be  made  happy." 

"  Give  us  some  hints  about  buying  furniture  and  putting  it  in 
a  house,"  said  James  Frederick,  saucily,  whipping  out  his  note- 
book.    "  I'm  going  to  buy  some  soon,  and  I  want  to  know." 

Cousin  Ann's  daughter  grew  very  rosy,  and  hid  behind  her 
sister,  Sara  Winton. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  if  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  hints  will  be  of 
any  use  to  you,  you  arc  welcome  to  thcrn.  You  give  me  no 
time  for  better  presentation  of  the  subject 

"First,  as  to  providing  furniture,  be  most  liberal  in  providing 
conveniences  for  rooms  which  you  will  use  most.  Do  not  stint 
the  kitchen  to  trick  out  the  parlor :  do  not  deprive  yourself  of 
proper  pots  and  pans  of  a  good,  durable  carpet  for  your  bed- 
room, and  a  side-table  for  the  dining-room,  in  order  that  your 
parlor  may  have  a  great  looking-glass.  A  housewife  spends 
much  time  in  her  kitchen :  let  it  be  neat,  tastefully  arranged, 
provided  with  conveniences  which  shall  save  disorder.  Get 
solid,  substantial  furniture  :  don't  be  deceived  by  pretty  sounding 
adjectives.  It  will  be  no  advantage  to  your  dining-table  to  be 
light  and  elegant :  it  might  break  down  under  your  first  big 
dinner.  Neither  should  chairs  be  light  and  elegant:  they  might 
crush  like  an  egg-shell  under  the  first  fat  man.  It  is  better  to 
get  less  furntture,  but  of  a  good,  firm  quality,  than  a  deal  of 
flimsy  stuff.  Do  not  get  showy  carvings  and  colorings,  ifnless 
expense  is  of  small  account  to  y^n,  and  ynu  can  change  your 
furnishings  frequently :  black  hair-cloth  of  good  quality,  .spite  of 


JIOIV  TO  MAKE  HOME  llArPY. 


463 


all  the  revilings  cast  at  it,  is  far  butter  than  a  clicap  red  or 
green  reps  which  will  soon  fade  or  crack.  If  you  do  not 
cxi)cct  to  refurnish  frequently,  avoid  getting  furniture  of  odd 
forms;  get  plain  shapes,  not  with  dozens  of  curious  curves:  in  a 
little  while  the  eye  wearies  of  these,  the  fashion  changes,  and 
they  arc  a  source  of  disgust.  Get  carpets  of  solid  quality, 
subdued  tints,  small  patterns,  that  are  like  known  things :  only  a 
Turkish  carpet  can  venture  to  lead  the  mind  intt)  tlie  weary 
mazes  of  a  crazy  man's  dream  of  things  unknown  to  creation. 
Remember  and  not  crowd  your  house  over-full  at  first:  there  is 
use  and  pleasure  in  buying  things  as  a  need  for  thcni  develops: 
the  eye  is  refreshed  by  a  new  picture  on  the  wall,  and  a  new  rug, 
ottoman  or  stand,  put  just  where  a  lack  had  seemed  to  be.  For 
woods,  in  a  parlor  or  handsomely  furnished  bed-room,  you  are 
always  safe  in  getting  a  good  oiled  walnut ;  for  bed-rooms  where 
you  desire  to  avoid  expense,  cottage  sets  of  painted  bass  wood 
arc  neat,  pretty  and  enduring ;  for  a  dining-room,  oak,  and  it 
pays  to  get  oak  chairs  seated  with  maroon  leather.  Don't  forget 
when  you  are  buying  a  table  that  it  is  for  use  ;  that  a  chair  is  to 
sit  in,  and  so  should  be  comfortable ;  that  a  bureau  is  for  use, 
and  that  its  drawers  should  be  strong,  with  good  locks,  opening 
and  shutting  easily,  and  deep.  Let  there  be  harmony  in  your 
furniture :  don't  get  one  fine  and  huge  article  which  will  stare 
all  the  rest  of  your  simple  surroundings  out  of  countenance;  a 
fine,  carved,  tall,  marble-topped  buffet  would  look  ill-placed  in  a 
small  dining-room,  with  an  old-fashioned,  leaved  tabic,  and  thin- 
legged,  cane-seat  chairs.  When  you  are  furnishing,  from  the 
beginning,  any  room,  consider  harmony :  get  a  carpet,  a  wall- 
paper, and  furniture,  which  harmonize ;  don't  have  a  wall- 
paper in  pink  flowers,  a  bright  red  carpet,  and  a  cottage  suite  in 
light  blue.  When  you  add  furniture  to  rooms  already  partly 
fitted  out,  get  what  harmonizos  with  the  rest,  and  .nupplics  a 
felt  need.     When  you  put  your  furniture  in  your  rooms,  let  the 


\\' 


•!' 


I  'I 


I. 


ii 


464 


7J//i    COMrLETli   HOME. 


rooms  mean  something ;  don't  let  them  have  a  dreary,  soulless 
look,  as  if  human  emotions  had  nothing  to  do  with  producing 
them,  and  they  had  been  set  in  shape  by  machineiy.  Group 
your  furniture  comfortably ;  put  chairs,  stands,  books,  pictures, 
where  people  would  naturally  use  them.  Study  artistic  effect : 
this  study  increases  the  beauty  of  present  possessions,  and  trains 
the  taste  of  the  family.  A  gentleman  paid  his  wife  a  grand 
compliment,  when,  looking  into  the  pretentiously  dreary  quarters 
assigned  him  as  a  government  officer,  he  remarked:  'Well,  it 
docs  look  frightfully,  but  it  wili  be  all  right  when  my  wife 
comes ;  she  could  create  beauty  and  a  home,  out  of  a  fragment 
of  the  Sahara  and  a  half-dozen  newspapers."  Finally,  don't 
crowd  your  rooms:  we  all  want  breathing  space," 

"  Tell  us,  if  you  please,"  said  Grace  Winton,  "  some  ways  in 
which  we  can  make  articles  of  furniture  for  ourselves,  if  we  have 
not  much  money  to  lay  out  in  our  houses  ?" 

"  I  suppose  you  all  know,"  I  said,  "  how  to  make  a  chair  of  a 
barrel,  sawn  into  shape,  and  covered  with  chintz,  over  stuffing. 
So  also  an  hour-glass  stand  is  an  article  often  made  of  two 
round  boirds,  nailed  at  either  end  of  a  stick  two  and  one-half 
feet  high,  and  two  and  one-half  inches  in  either  diameter.  Lot 
your  board-top  be  as  large  as  you  wish  your  stand ;  cover  first 
with  old  muslin,  and  then  with  fancy  chintz  or  muslin ;  furnish 
the  top  with  a  central  pin-cushion  and  a  circle  of  pockets;  and 
tie  the  draping  muslin,  at  the  centre  of  the  support,  into  the 
form  of  an  hour-glass.  Foot-cushions  aic  pretty,  and  easily 
made  of  patch-work.  You  can  have  a  lovely  bracket  by  fasten- 
ing to  the  wall  a  board  of  the  right  size,  and  putting  on  it  a 
cloth  cover  with  a  depending  edge  cut  into  leaf  shapes  or  trian- 
|t1cs,  and  the  whole  embroidered  with  silk  in  Oriental  applique : 
the  skirts  of  a  worn-out  black  or  blue  coat  will  furnish  you  this 
covering.  A  dry  goods  box,  some  colored  cambric  and  white 
Swiss,  with  ribbon,  will  make  a  toilette  table.     A  good  lounge 


!ary,  soulless 
h  producing 
leiy.  Group 
)ks,  pictures, 
rtistic  effect : 
ns,  and  trains 
wife  a  grand 
eary  quarters 
:d:  'Well,  it 
len  my  wife 
jf  a  fragment 
="inally,  don't 

ome  ways  in 
es,  if  we  have 

2  a  chair  of  a 
over  stuffing, 
made  of  two 
and  one-half 
iameter.  Let 
d ;  cover  first 
uslin ;  furnish 
pockets ;  and 
port,  into  the 
y,  and  easily 
ket  by  fasten- 
atting  on  it  a 
lapes  or  trian- 
tital  applique: 
-nish  you  this 
dHc  and  white 
.  good  lounge 


A 


i 


HOIV   TO   MAKE   HOME   //Am 


465 


can  be  made  of  a  frame,  a  cushion,  stuffed  with  hay  or  husks, 
evenly  tacked,  and  the  whole  nicely  covered  with  chintz,  or 
indeed  with  calico.  Chintz  lambrequins  are  pretty  and  sinipK- 
for  windows ;  full  curtains  of  buff,  white,  gray  or  pink  lawn  to 
suit  the  general  tone  of  the  room  are  pretty,  but  not  especially 
cheap.  You  can  make  shades  by  stretching  unbleached  muslin 
on  a  frame,  rubbing  evenly  into  it  melted  beeswax  and  rosin, 
and  when  that  is  dry,  putting  on  a  coat  of  paint  and  one  of  var- 
nish However,  the  only  curtain  cheaper  than  bought  shades — 
and  a  pretty  curtain  it  is — is  made  of  fine  unbleached,  with  a 
binding  of  red  or  blue  plain  calico,  and  a  bias  of  the  same  an 
inch  wide,  set  one  inch  from  the  border ;  these,  frilled  at  top  and 
bottom,  are  very  tasteful,  cheap  and  durable.  A  verj'^  good  car- 
pet for  a  library  or  room  not  to  be  roughh'  usjc!  can  be  made  in 
this  way:  paste  over,  the  floor  a  thickness  of  heaviest  coarse 
brown  paper;  when  dr\',  paste  (not  glue)  another  layer,  and  so 
on  for  throe,  or  even  four.  Cover  with  a  coat  of  cheap  gray  or 
yellow  paint.  Then  all  around  the  edge,  paint  a  heavy  inch- 
wide  line  of  deep  reddish  brown  ;  match  that  line  fifteen  inches 
farther  in  if  the  room  is  large,  ten  inches  or  a  foot  if  of  medium 
size.  Between  these  lines  paint  in  a  solid  color  to  suit  yourself. 
and  when  dry  lay  on  it,  in  some  other  color,  arabesques  or 
leaves.  There  is  your  border.  Fill  the  centre  in  of  a  solid 
color,  say  deep  blue  or  dark  green :  if  you  choose,  you  can 
paint  a  central  medallion  or  some  corner  pieces.  When  well 
hardened,  lay  on  a  heavy  coat  of  varnish.  This  carpet  must  not 
be  swept  or  washed,  but  carefully  wiped  off  with  a  woollen  cloth, 
pinned  over  a  broom.  Lay  mats  where  the  heaviest  wear 
comes ;  and  if  varnished  once  a  year,  or  repainted  where  dam- 
aged, it  will  last  for  years.  Indeed,  love  and  need  united  will 
teach  u£  very  many  ways  of  furnishing  comfortably  our  homes 
at  small  expense.     Necessity  in  the  Home,  as  elsewhere,  is  ths 

mother  of  invention." 
30 


\^ 


'    <"!  iiii 


f  ' 


'i,     '  UK  111 


4G6 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


•\\\ 


■f-r 


?1 


*l 


'  \ 


I:  i  if 


"And  hovt  hall  we  keep  this  cosy,  tasteful  home  when  we 
get  it?"  asked  Miss  Black. 

Hester,  who  sat  by  me,  thinking  ine  a  little  tired,  said:  "Let 
me  preface  Aunt  Sophronia's  remarks,  by  giving  you  a  quota- 
tion from  a  French  author,  Sauvestre :  '  I  hate  an  aspect  of  dis- 
order, because  it  indicates  either  a  scorn  of  details  or  inaptitude 
for  interior  life.  Arranging  the  objects  in  the  midst  of  which, 
we  live  is  establishing  between  us  and  them  bonds  of  appropri- 
ateness or  convenience:  it  is  fi.\ing  habits  without  which  man 
tends  toward  the  savage  state.  I  should  be  suspicious  of  the 
good  sense  and  morality  of  people,  to  whom  disorder  costs  no 
vexation,  or  who  could  live  at  ease  in  Augean  stables.  Our 
surroundings  reflect  more  or  less  our  interior  natures.  If  tastes 
did  not  betray  character,  they  would  be  no  longer  tastes,  but 
merely  instincts."" 

"  Hester,"  said  I,  "  has  struck  the  key-note  of  my  answer  to 
your  last  question.  We  shall  preser\'e  and  enjoy  this  happy  home 
by  good  order.  We  must  take  care  of  our  properties :  worn- 
out  carpets,  soiled  and  ragged  table-covers,  broken-springed  and 
dented  furniture,  windows  mended  with  paper  and  putty,  marred 
walls,  cracked  dishes,  give  a  forlornness  to  our  homes.  We 
must  ourselves  be  methodical,  orderly,  careful  in  our  use  of 
things,  and  see  to  it  that  servants  and  children  arc  so  also, 

"I  have  seen  homes  which  chiK  len  were  permitted  to  turn 
into  kingdoms  of  misrule.  I  rememb-''-  r.-,-;  such,  '  ..'t-j  well 
furnished  to  begin  with :  the  childrc:i  p'..ycJ  with  everything  in 
the  house  ;  they  played  that  the  chairs  were  horses,  cars,  carts ; 
these  conveyances,  to  increase  the  general  joy,  overturned 
occasionally ;  as  you  may  fancy,  there  was  hardly  a  chair  in  the 
house  uncracked  and  undented.  They  took  the  family  umbrellas 
and  spread  them,  for  caves  and  dens  of  the  earth,  on  the  dining- 
rooi".  .tioor,  in  their  hilarity  rolling  over  in  them,  and  bending 
the  wires  and. ruining  the  handles.     They  took  all  the  shawls  in 


HOH'^  TO  MAKE  HO  ML    ITAPPY, 


467 


home  when  we 

tired,  said :  "  Let 
ng  you  a  quota- 
an  aspect  of  dib- 
lils  or  inaptitude 
;  midst  of  which 
>nds  of  appropri- 
liout  which  man 
suspicious  of  the 
lisorder  costs  no 
n  stables.  Our 
iturcs.  If  tastes 
anger  tastes,  but 

of  my  answer  to 
this  happy  home 
roperties :  worn- 
cen-springed  and 
nd  putty,  marred 
)ur  homes.  We 
1  in  our  use  of 
ire  so  also, 
crmitted  to  turn 

such,  '  ^'"-j  well 
ith  everything  in 
arses,  cars,  carts ; 

joy,  overturned 
dly  a  chair  in  the 
family  umbrellas 
h,  on  the  dining- 
em,  and  bending 

all  the  shawls  in 


I 


the  house,  pinning  them  together  to  drape  the  dining-room  table 
for  a  wigwam.  This  topsy-turvy  play  left  neither  table,  nor 
chair,  nor  rest  for  the  sole  of  an  adult  foot.  The  tranquil 
mother  never  woke  up  to  the  need  of  stopping  it,  until  her 
husband,  cold,  wet  or  weasy,  appeared  at  one  door,  and  the 
remonstrating  ijiaid  at  another,  vowing  that  supper  was  being 
ruined  because  she  could  get  neither  table  nor  chairs. 

"  If  these  children  chose  to  play  Chinese  laundry,  they  tied 
strings  all  around  the  bed-room,  and  pinned  then-to  every  towel 
in  the  house.  Their  father,  come  to  make  his  toilette,  stands 
with  face  and  hands  dripping,  finding  the  stand  plundered  of 
napcry,  and  shouts  for  a  towel,  losing  his  temper.  TIio  servant, 
coming  to  set  things  in  order,  cries  '  she  neve  saw  such 
children,'  tears  down  the  lines,  and  thrusts  away  the  towels 
promiscuously:  clean  ones,  half-folded,  in  the  drawers,  other 
clean  ones  among  the  soiled  clothes,  dirty  ones  on  tue  stands, 
and  for  days  confusion  is  produced  thereby. 

"  The  fashion  for  sofas  then  being  a  long  sofa  with  hi  ^^h  arms, 
these  children  had  a  favorite  game  of  sitting  on  the  arms  and 
letting  themselves  roll  violently  back  on  the  seat.  Imagine  the 
way  .springs  would  break  and  covers  wear  out  in  that  sport! 
They  draped  themselves  in  the  embroidered  piano  ana  table 
covers  to  play  charades,  and  tried  gymnastics  by  jumpir  g  up 
and  down  stairs,  as  hard  as  they  could  pound,  over  tht  nice 
carpet, 

"As  you  may  guess,  things  wore  out  in  this  house.  The 
mother  vexedly  declared  she  had  not  a  decent  room,  and  could 
not  keep  a  thing  in  order.  The  children  played  snow-bank  in 
the  feather-beds  as  soon  as  they  were  made  \.\y>,  and  when  b  ds 
were  negligently  left  to  air  until  noon,  they  trampled  the  cloti.es 
uround,  making  tents  of  them.  The  mother  desired  money  ior 
various  uses;  the  father,  an  orderly  man,  sourly-  remarked  'thi* 
there  was  no  use  of  laying  out  nion^      nothing  was  taken  care  ol 


|^   . 


(    l!l 


ilt 


h,S 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


in  that  house.'  The  bed-linen,  towels  and  shawls  wore  ruined 
by  pin  holes,  the  furniture  was  worn  and  marred,  anything  was 
good  enough  for  a  menagerie  or  a  hionkey-house !  Meanwhile, 
the  children  were  not  happier  for  this  license  and  disoidcr. 
Tlicy  missed  dainty  taste,  and  nice  furnishings,  and  the  repose  of 
good  management ;  especially  as  they  grew  older  they  found 
themselves  dwarfed,  fretted  and  discouraged  by  this  lack  of 
order  and  thrift  in  their  home. 

"  Contrast  such  a  house  as  this  with  Cousin  Ann's,  whci<j 
children  were  taught  that  all  things  were  to  be  put  to  tlu-ir 
proper  uses,  and  that  the  children  themselves  must  help  take 
care  of  things.  I  never  saw  a  child  there  making  a  horse  of  a 
chair,  or  playing  the  coffee-mill  was  a  steam-engine.  Cousin 
Ann  knew  that  children  liked  to  play  horse,  and  each  child  had 
a  pair  of  knit  reins,  a  broom  handle  with  a  famous  horse's  head 
of  cloth  on  it ;  and  Cousin  Reuben  sawed,  hewed  and  painted  a 
grand  hobby-horse,  with  hair  cars,  tail  and  mane,  and  a  red 
leather  bridle — a  hobby-horse  which  served  each  child  in  turn, 
and  has  gone  to  a  grandchild. 

"The  children  did  not  play  den,  wigwam  and  cave,  in  the 
house:  they  had  for  the  house  suitable  plays  and  enjoyed  them; 
but  I  have  often  in  fine  weather  seen  Cousin  Ann,  even  when 
very  busy,  take  time  to  teach  her  children  how  to  make,  in  the 
yard,  a  wigwam  of  branches,  or  of  old  palingis,  or  a  tent  of  some 
discarded  rug  or  cloth.  If  your  neat,  tasteful  furnishing  is  to 
avail  you  anything  in  making  home  happy,  you  must  take  care 
of  it,  for  unthrift  and  disorder  arc  the  ruin  of  homes." 

"And  what,"  demanded  Belinda,  "are  some  of  the  small  ways.* 
in  which,  without  thinking  of  it,  we  destroy  home  happiness  ? " 

"One  is  in  lack  of  courtesy,  in  failing  to  use  the  refinement 
and  politeness  at  home  which  we  think  suitable  abroad.  But  I 
nave  talked  to  you  a  deal  on  that  head.  Another  error  is  lack 
v^  punctuality.    This  is  a  serious  drawback  to  home  Iiappiness, 


now  TO  MAKE  HOME  HAPPY. 


469 


Nh  were  ruined 
d,  anything  was 
ic !  Meanwhile, 
c  and  disoidcr. 
nd  the  repose  of 
Idcr  they  found 
)y  this  lack  of 

n  Ann's,  wlieic 
be  put  to  their 
must  help  take 
ng  a  horse  of  a 
ngine.  Cousin 
I  each  child  had 
us  horse's  head 
d  and  iJaintod  a 
lane,  and  a  red 
:h  child  in  turn, 

nd  cave,  in  the 
J  enjoyed  them; 
Ann,  even  when 
to  make,  in  the 
»r  a  tent  of  some 
furnishing  is  to 
1  must  take  care 
imes." 

r  the  small  way^ 
le  happiness?" 
e  the  refinement 
abroad.    But  I 
her  error  is  lack 
lome  happiness, 


end  is  utterly  needless.  We  can  be  punctual  if  we  make  up  our 
minds  to  it.  There  should  be  an  exact  minute  for  ringing  the 
bell  for  each  meal ;  an  exact  minute  for  setting  out  for  church ; 
when  we  plan  to  go  out,  we  should  set  an  exact  minute  for 
going,  and  we  should  be  ready  on  time;  we  have  no  right  to 
waste  other  people's  time ;  to  rile  their  tempers  ;  to  keep  affairs 
from  going  smoothly  by  being  benind-hand  ;  it  is  as  easy  to  be 
five  minutes  too  soon,  as  five  minutes  too  late ;  lack  of  punc- 
tuality is  a  domestic  crime.  I  do  not  believe  Mrs.  Winton  ever 
kept  any  one  waiting  in  her  life.  She  exalts  the  social  virtue  of 
punctuality." 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  Grace  Winton,  "  that  mother  ever  did 
keep  any  one  waiting ;  I  thought  once  that  she  had  kept  me  for 
five  minutes,  but  I  found  that  my  watch  was  wrong.  Once  she 
hired  a  servant — very  good,  except  that  she  was  unpunctual. 
Father  said  to  her:  'I'.Iy  lady,  you've  got  more  than  your  match 
in  tliis  woman  ;  if  you  get  her  nearer  the  mark  than  any  time 
within  an  hour,  you'll  work  a  miracle.' 

"  But  in  a  month  that  woman  was  punctual  to  the  minute. 
The  way  mother  accomplished  this  change  was  making  a  main 
object. of  it.  For  instance,  the  time  for  dinner  came;  into  the 
dining-room  walks  mother  and  bids  the  boy  ring  the  bell. 

" '  Oh,  ma'am,  dinner  is  not  quite  ready ! ' 

" '  I'm  truly  sorry:  it  ought  to  be ;  ring  the  bell :  it  is  time  for 
that' 

"So  the  bell  rang;  in  we  all  came,  and  solenmly  waited  for 
the  dinner.  Not  a  word  more  of  reproof;  that  waiting  was  as 
weighty  a  reproof  as  any  words. 

"  Then  in  her  zeal  the  woman  got  the  meals  ready  too  soon, 
and  moth;r  would  say: 'Luke!  why  is  that  bell  ringing?  it  is 
ten  minutes  before  the  hour.* 

*■ '  Please,  ma'am,  dinner's  on  the  table.' 

"  '  Then  carry  it  back  to  the  kitchen ;  ring  the  bell  at  the 
njinute,  and  we  will  come.' 


w  w 


4^ 


If 


r  I 


)'  I 


?    ■' 


f  r 


8J|1    r  1 


MH  '*''! 


ii  ^ 

1; 

J 

470 


r/Ti?   COMPLETE  HOME. 


"  She  never  kept  the  meal  waiting  ;  if  the  woman  sent  word, 
'Shall  I  serve  supper?  the  young  gentlemen  are  not  in  yet,' 
mother  responded,  '  Set  on  supper  at  the  minute,  and  the  young 
centlemen  can  take  their  chance.' 

"  Our  servants  soon  rejoice  in  our  household  punctuality,  and 
it  reaches  out  and  pervade^  the  gentlemen's  business;  they 
know  Just  zi'/icti  they  shall  get  to  their  offices,  and  they  know 
j'usi  when  they  should  leave.  They  arrange  their  work  with  a 
view  to  this,  and  find  it  as  easy  to  be  on  time  as  to  be  irregular, 
and  it  is  much  better  for  health." 

"  Much  obliged,  Grace,"  I  said ;  "  we  will  all  try  to  profit  by 
that  leaf  from  your  mother's  housekeeping  book.  Now  I  think 
of  another  thing  needful  in  making  Home  happy.  Don't  get 
excited  over  small  matters.  Every  one  is  liable  to  make  mis- 
takes, and  we  should  not  treat  a  mistake  as  a  capital  crime. 
Wc  should  not  cast  a  gloom  over  the  whole  house  because  the 
sugar-bowl  is  broken,  or  the  butcher  did  not  bring  the  beef. 
The  broken  bowl  may  make  somebody  more  careful,  and  a  litde 
ingenuity  can  compass  a  fine  omelet  folded  over  some  minced 
veal  or  beef,  or  oysters,  while  a  half  pound  of  cheese,  cooked  in 
cream  and  crumbed  crackers,  will  be  a  side-dish,  and  we  shall 
h.ive  a  decent  meal  after  all.  There  is  no  use  condemning  the 
terrified  maid  who  has  spilled  the  gravy,  as  if  she  had  murdered 
our  best  grandfather ;  we  shall  perhaps  grow  to  be  unlucky  if 
we  always  whine  over  our  ill-luck ;  let  us  clear  up  our  faces  and 
see  where  the  joke  comes  in,  and  mingle  a  little  comedy  with 
our  high  tragedy,  and  our   homes  will  be  much  the  happier 

for  it." 

"Another  way  to  make  Home  happy,  and  a  very  common- 
place way  it  is,  is  to  have  enough  to  cat ! " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Dick ;  "  that's  what  I  like— let  us  hear  about 
that." 

"  Give  you  ten  minutes  on  that,  aunt,"  said  Hester,  "  and  then 


HO IV  TO  AfAKE   HOME  HAPPY. 


471 


111  sent  word, 
;  not  in  yet,' 
ntl  the  young 

actuality,  and 
usiness ;  they 
id  they  know 
r  work  with  a 
)  be  irregular, 

y  to  profit  by 
Now  I  think 
y.     Don't  get 
to  make  mis- 
capital   crime, 
sc  because  the 
>ring  the  beef, 
ful,  and  a  Httle 
some  minced 
ese,  cooked  in 
,  and  we  shall 
andemning  the 
had  murdered 
be  unlucky  if 
)  our  faces  and 
t  comedy  with 
h  the  happier 

very  common- 
US  hear  about 
iter,  "  and  then 


it  will  be  time  for  our  supper,  which  Martha,  Ann,  and  Hannah 
are  laying  out  in  fine  style." 

"A  family  table,"  I  said,  "  should  always  be  provided  with  an 
ample  supply  of  palatable,  nourishing,  well-cooked,  and  well- 
served  food.  The  expense  of  this  food  must  be  graduated  by 
the  fulness  of  the  family  purse;  some  people  can  afford  the  first 
strawberries  and  green  peas ;  can  cat  game  and  fowl  when  these 
are  dear,  and  can  take  the  best  cuts  of  beef  and  mutton ;  they 
arc  not  obliged  to  be  economical  in  providing  for  the  table. 
Other  people  must  study  the  strictest  economy  in  their  family 
marketing ;  unless  one  has  a  hobby— as  costly  books,  rare  coins, 
jewels  or  lace— the  table  is  apt  to  absorb  the  greater  part  of  the 
living-money,  and  our  wastings  and  our  savings  arc  alike  most 
marked  in  our  larder.  But  while  we  undertake  to  economize  in 
our  meals,  we  must,  as  an  old  man  was  wont  to  say,  do  it  'judg- 
maticaUv;'  it  is  no  real  saving  to  buy  too  little,  or  unwholesome 
food,  for  what  we  save  in  this  direction  is  likely  to  be  taken  off 
by  doctors'  and  druggists'  bills.  However,  there  arc  very  many 
cheap  articles  of  food  which  are  quite  as  nourishing  and  pala- 
table as  those  which  are  more  expensive  ;  if  we  cannot  buy  sirloin 
roast,  or  the  finest  porter-house  steak,  there  are  on  the  beef  nice 
boiling  pieces,  which  sell  for  about  half  the  price  of  these  choice 
cuts,  yet  arc  to  the  full  as  nutritious  when  well  cooked ;  if  we 
put  the  boiling-piece  into  cold  water,  and  let  it  boil  as  hard  as 
it  can,  uncovered,  we  .shall  get  little  in  vigor  or  flavor  for  our 
money;  but  if,  tightly  covered,  and  well  seasoned,  it  is  put  into 
boiling  water,  and  then  kept  gently  simmering  for  several  hours, 
according  to  its  size,  you  have  a  piece  of  meat  which  is  relish- 
ing and  wholesome  the  first  day;  will  be  nice  when  cold,  sliced 
thinly  and  covered  with  salad  dressing ;  will  cook  over  with 
vegetables  into  a  fine  Irish  stew;  or  minced  fine,  with  seasoning 
and  potatoes,  and  poured  over  toast,  will  make  an  excellent 
ha.sh.     A  little  parsley,  a  lemon  or  two,  with  rice  for  curry,  or 


1    :  i: 


3 

I     ;! 


i  I 


>    -V  '-M   .  > 


il; 


l! 


1 

1'    j 

1 

1 

, 

i             I 

!  t 

«72 


TffE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


mashed  potatoes  and  sliced  carrots,  will  afford  almost  endless 
methods  of  cooking  over  such  a  bit  of  meat,  and  each  time  it 
will  be  agreeable  to  eye  and  palate.  Samp,  hominy,  cracked 
wheat  and  cracked  oats,  are  invaluable  articles  of  diet,  and  are 
all  cheap  and  capable  of  being  cooked  in  many  ways.  In  all 
our  country  districts  milk  is  cheap,  and  is  in  itself  one  of  our 
finest  articles  of  food.  If  we  cannot  afford  preserves,  jellies  and 
canned  fruits,  we  shall  find  dried  peaches,  apples  and  black- 
berries very  cheap,  and  even  more  healthful. 

"  In  order  that  at  each  meal  there  shall  be  abundance,  variety 
and  attractiveness,  and  this  within  the  scope  of  our  means,  we 
must  have  foresight  in  our  housekeeping,  and  be  provided  in 
advance  of  demand      Some  hou.sekccpcr.-3  never  have  anything 
ready  in  advance:   they  arc  always  on  the  eve  of  bankruptcj- 
in  the  larder.     Now  it  is  not  only  as  cheap,  but  much  cheaper, 
to  have  things  made  ready  in  advance  of  need,  and  in  large 
enough  quantities.     If  you  keep  plenty  of  bread  on  hand,  you 
have  the  means  of  making  milk  or  butter-toast,  bread-pudding, 
or  you  can  steam  the  bread  and  set  it  on  the  table  as  nice  as 
when    fresh    from    the   oven;   you    can    make  a  well-seasoned 
stuffing  and  re-dress  with  it,  and  roast  the  meat  left  cold  from 
yesterday,  and.  ornamented  with  parsley  and  lemons,  it  is  a  dish 
for  a  queen.     If  you  provide  little  jars  of  jelly  and  marmalade, 
little  pots  of  pickles,  have  cheese  dry  ready  to  grate,  and  meat 
enough   for  a   salad,  or  a  dish  of  sandwiches,  you  can  set  a 
luncheon  before  guest,  or  member  of  your  family,  without  con- 
fusion or  delay.     It  detracts  much  from  the  happiness  of  home 
to  feel  that  the  unexpected  appearance  or  invitation  of  a  friend 
will  be  like  a  bomb-shell  flung  into  the  domestic  camp.     And 
yet  when  peopL-  have  never  anything  ready,  and  the  entrance 
of  a  guest  means  a  mad  chase  after  a  Shanghai  and  a  frantic 
mixing  of   biscuits,   welcomes   cm   scarcely   be   o\    the   rnorit 
cordial.    That  mother  of  a  household  is  a  treasure  indeed,  whg 


NOW  TO  MAKE  HOME  HAPPY. 


473 


almost  endless 
1  each  time  it 
miny,  cracked 
f  diet,  and  are 
ways.  In  all 
iclf  one  of  our 
ves,  jellies  and 
es  and  black- 

idance,  variety 
our  means,  we 
be  provided  in 

have  anything 
of  bankruptc}* 

much  cheaper, 
1,  and  in  large 
I  on  hand,  you 
bread-pudding, 
table  as  nice  as 
L  well-seasoned 
;  left  cold  from 
ons,  it  is  a  dish 
md  marmalade, 
grate,  and  meat 

you  can  set  a 
ly,  without  con- 
ipiness  of  home 
tion  of  a  friend 
tic  camp.  And 
id  the  entrance 
lai  and  a  frantic 
c  of  the  niorit 
urc  indeed,  who 


m 


h  always  able  to  offer  a  lunch  to  friend  or  family,  to  pack  a 
delectable  basket  for  a  pic-nic  on  an  hour's  notice,  to  prepare,  in 
hot  haste,  a  tasteful  luncheon  for  a  traveller  to  take  on  boat  or 
cars.  Speaking  of  luncheon,  you  remember  somebody  says  that 
Pitt  died  of  not  eating  luncheon.  Where  the  dinner  hour  is  late. 
people  should  not  fast  from  breakfast  until  dinner.  The  system 
runs  out  of  supplies  and  begins  feeding  on  itself;  the  brain 
burns  up  the  body ;  like  the  fires  of  a  distressed  ship,  where  fuel 
is  exhausted,  it  burns  up  cargo,  and  wood-work,  and  lining  to 
keep  itself  going,  and,  if  the  craft  continues  to  float,  it  is  a  mere 
wreck.  If  we  have  dinner  at  four  or  five  o'clock,  then  we 
should  not  go  to  bed  without  supper:  for  the  fast  of  fourteen  or 
sixteen  hours  until  breakflist  is  too  great  a  tax  on  our  vitality. 
If  we  play  tricks  on  our  physique,  and  like  the  man  famous 
among  fools,  try  to  make  our  working  beast  live  on  a  straw  a 
day,  we  shall,  like  him,  find  the  brute,  dying  just  as  the  experi- 
ment reaches  its  climax." 

"And  what  shall  this  luncheon  be  ?  "  asked  Mary  Watkins. 

"Chocolate  is  vciy  nice  in  cold  weather,  and  lemonade  in  hot 
weather,  if  you  can  afford  it.  Where  rich  milk  is  plenty, 
nothing  is  more  delicious  than  a  dish  of  brown  bread  and  milk, 
and  a  plate  of  fresh  berries.  Sandwiches,  either  of  ham,  beef  or 
tongue,  are  good.  A  salad  is  always  in  place.  A  delightful 
salad  can  be  made  of  white  lettuce,  bleached  turnip-tops,  and 
celery  finely  cut,  and  wcll-dresser'  with  the  salad  mixture 
already  recommended  to  you.  A  good  white  soup  ai.  !  stale 
bread  make  a  fiir  lunch  also.  Cold  chicken;  biscuit  sliicd 
thin;  plain  'training-day  gingerbread;'  a  plate  of  thin  brc;.ij 
and  butter  to  accompany  a  plate  of  sardines  laid  out  whole 
and  dressed  with  thin  rounds  of  lemon,  or  of  cucumber-pickle; 
a  dish  of  crackers,  and  another  of  mixed  figs  and  raisins — al/ 
lliese  are  good  for  luncheon.  Have  little  cake  or  pie  for  thai 
meal,  but  plenty  of  fruit" 


'  ill'' 


I,! 


11 


I 


ii  I 


\    1   mi 


I- 


474 


r//£   COMPLETE   HOME. 


"And  what  is  reasonable  for  supper,  if  one  dines  at  four  of 

five?" 

"A  glass  of  milk  and  some  sponge-cake ;  a  thin  slice  of  bread 
and  butter,  and  a  baked  apple ;  a  sandwich  of  grated  tongue  ;  a 
sandwich  of  very  thin  bread,  buttered  and  seasoned ;  and  boiled 
egg  sliced  very  thin  and  used  instead  of  meat.  Perhaps,  for 
cool  weather,  the  very  best  supper  of  all  is  what  we  borrow  from 
the  Scotch :  a  dish  of  oatmeal  porridge,  eaten  either  with  new 
milk  or  with  butter  and  sugar.  Figs  and  fresh  grapes  are  always 
in  order:  one  can  hardly  eat  too  freely  of  either;  and  for  most 
people  a  small  cup  of  cream  and  a  slice  of  brown  bread  is  a 
treat  fit  for  the  gods." 

We  were  now  called  out  to  a  supper  which  was  beautiful  to 
the  eye  and  delectable  to  the  taste,  and  very  joyfully  received 
by  the  whole  party.  I  thought  my  guests  would,  after  supper, 
branch  out  to  more  general  subjects,  and  consider  that  they  had 
had  instruction  enough  for  one  day.  But,  no;  when  we  were 
a^ain  in  the  parlor  the  insatiable  James  Frederick  returned  to 

the  charge,  saying : 

"Aunt  Sophronia,  you  hinted  that  we  should  try  to  be  in 
order  at  any  time  to  receive  a  friend  at  our  table,  without  being 
put  to  extra  trouble,  or  begrudging  the  entertainment.  People 
also  sometimes  want  to  ask  half-a-dozen  friends  or  so  to  a  little 
dinner.  Give  us  some  hints  how  to  do  this  in  simple  good 
taste,  when  there  is  no  one  to  prepare  the  feast  but  the  lady  of 
the  house  and  an  inexperienced  Biddy  or  two.  One  would 
not  wish  to  make  much  display,  nor  to  be  in  danger  of  being 

ridiculous." 

"  Neatness,  simplicity  and  hearty  good-will  arc  never  ridicu- 
lous," I  replied;  "  and  we  must  call  these  to  our  dinner-party. 
In  the  case  you  suggest,  I  would  recommend  that  as  many  of 
the  preparations  as  possible  be  made  on  the  preceding  day,  so 
that  the  hostess  will  spare  herself  fatigue  and  hurry  on  the  day 


ics  at  four  of 


JiOH^  TO  MAKE  HOME  HAPPY. 


47S 


when  she  must  entertain  her  guests.     Let  the  table-cloth  be 
spotlessly  white,  and  ironed  to  a  high  polish;  ditto  the  napkins; 
and  the  cloth  and  napkins  must  be  ironed  in  folds  to  match, 
whether  straight  folds,  diamonds,  triangles  or  boxes.     Be  careful 
to  stand  the  table  straight,  and  lay  the  cloth  exactly  straight :  a 
side-table  must  have  a  smaller  cloth,  ironed  to  match.     Have  a 
centre-piece  of  flowers,  plam  or  elaborate,  to  suit  your  means  and 
taste;  a  pair  of  clear  glass-bowls,  filled  with  lumps  of  ice,  set  at 
matched  distances,  are  an  addition  in  ornament,  and  have  the 
advantage,  thus  used,  that  when  they  begin  to  show  their  melt- 
ing they  can  be  removed  with  some  course,  while  if  the  ice  is 
mingled  in  the  centre-piece,  it  must  stay,  and  become  sloppy. 
If  the  table  is  very  large,  a  couple  of  small  boats  of  flowers  can 
be  added  where  there  is  room.     There  should  also  be  a  bouquet 
on   the  side-board.     On  the  side-table    should   be   placed   the 
plates  and  other  dishes  requisite  for  changing  the  table.     Every 
dish  and  every  article  of  glass   should   be  brightly  polished; 
the  silver  should  shine,  and  everj'  shining  salt-cellar  should  be 
freshly  filled  and    printed  in  a  small    stamp.     The   soup-ladle 
should  be  placed  where  it  is  to  be  used :  so  with  the  fish-trowel 
and- the  tablespoons.     Accurate  table-setting  is  needful  to  pre- 
vent confusion,  and  unless  the  servants  are  skilful  the  mistress 
of  the  house  had  better  spread  the  table  herself  before  she  goes 
to  dress.     Where  the  first  course  is  soup,  a  square  or  oblong 
piece  of  stale  bread  should  be  laid  on  the  napkin  at  each  plate. 
By  every  plate  place  two  forks,  a  knife  and  a  spoon:  where  there 
is  soup  that  is  first  course,  and  nothing  else  should  be  on  the 
tablj;   but   remember   to  have   your  caster   polished  and  well 
filled.     When  the  soup  or  other  plates  arc  removed,  do  not  let 
them  be  piled  together,  but  that  of  each  diner  removed  sepa- 
rately on  a  little  server.     During  the  serving  of  the  soup  the 
waitress  will  stand  with  a  small  server  at  her  mistress'  left  hand 
to  take  the  soup  to  the  guests.     Have  your  side-table  in  order* 


••h' 


1 


476 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


a  dish  of  butter  neatly  stamped  and  two  goblets,  with  spare 
mrkins   with    colored   borders   folded    in   points,   improve   its 
ap.Ji-TU-ance.     When  the  fish  is  set  on,  warm  plates  must  be  laid 
be  ore  each  guest— no  one  wants  fish  on  a  cold  plate.     A  boat 
of  ish  sauce  and  a  dish  of  salad  come  on  with  the  fish.     Most 
coc  ks  say,  no  vegetables  with  fish ;  nothing  but  an  appropriate 
salad;   but  some  people  like  potatoes  with  fish,  and  the  best 
rul.i  for  dinner-giving  is  to  please  your  guests'  taste.    Therefore, 
you  may,  if  you  choose,  send  potatoes  on  with  fish,  dressed  in 
thi-  wise:  pare  them  evenly,  and  soak  in  cold  salt  water  for  an 
hour ;  wipe  and  slice  as  thin  as  paper ;  have  a  sauce-pan  of  lard 
as  hot  as  can  be  without  burning ;  drop  the  slices  in,  a  handful 
at  a  time ;  skim  out  with  a  skimmer  in  a  couple  of  minutes,  or 
as:  soon  as  you  see  that  they  arc  done  ;  sprinkle  with  fine  salt, 
and  pile  on  a  platter,  whereon  is  a  fine  napkin  laid  diamond-wise 
with  corners  turned   in:  properly  cooked,  these  potatoes  will 
not  grease  the  napkin.     Around  the  edge  of  this  dish  should  be 
parsley  leaves,  and  lemon-peel  chopped  fine  sprinkled  over  the 
parsley.     The  broiled  fish  is  improved  by  slices  of  lemon  laid 
wver  it.    Before  removing  the  fish,  carry  away  the  fork  and  trowel 
on  a  clean  plate  to  the  side-table.     After  the  meats  come  fowls 
and  vegetables,  for  which  hot  plates  must  be  served  round.    The 
table  must  be  finally  relieved  of  all  used  dishes,  of  casters,  and 
unused  silver  and  salt-cellars.     If  nuts  are  placed  on  the  table 
with  dessert,  salt-cellars  should  be  passed  around  to  each  guest, 
as  nuts  are  always  unwholesome  eating  without  salt.     After  this 
removal  of  dishes  the  table  should  be  brushed  with  a  curved 
crumb-brush  upon  a  small  tray,  or  a  large  plate  if  you  have  no 
tray.     Let    there    be    no    haste    nor   confusion    in  making   the 
changes;    let  the  host  and    hostess  converse    easily  with  their 
guests,  and  show  no  nervousness ;  if  any  accident  occurs,  the 
less  said  about  it  the  better,  and  restore  tranquillity  as  soon  as 
possible     Extra  napkins  and  a  damask  towel,  also  a  wide  knife 


HOW    7  0   MAKE    HOME    /htJ'J'Y. 


All 


;ts,  with  spare 
s,  improve  its 
;s  must  be  laid 
plate.  A  boat 
he  fish.     Most 

an  appropriate 
,  and   the  best 
5tc.    Therefore, 
fish,  dressed  in 
alt  water  for  an 
uce-pan  of  lard 
es  in,  a  handful 
;  of  minutes,  or 
e  with  fine  salt, 
d  diamond-wise 
;e  potatoes  will 
i  dish  should  be 
rinklcd  over  the 
s  of  lemon  laid 

fork  and  trowel 
;ats  come  fowls 
vcd  round.  The 
;,  of  casters,  and 
ccd  on  the  table 
d  to  each  guest, 

salt.  After  this 
d  with  a  curved 
:  if  you  have  no 

in  making  the 
easily  with  their 
dent  occurs,  the 
uillity  as  soon  as 
ilso  a  wide  knife 


and  a  soup-plate  should  be  in  reserve  on  the  back  of  the  side- 
table,  quickly  to  repair  any  spilling  of  water  or  gravy.     When 
you  use  finger-bowls,  they,  with  their  colored  danuisk  napkins, 
should  be  set  at  each  plate  as  soon  as  the  cloth  is  brushed :  it  is 
well  to  sprinkle  a  few  drops  of  cologne  or  of  patchouli  upon  the 
water  of  each  bowl,  but  never  any  musk,  as  that  is  very  offensive 
to  some  people.     If  such  a  misfortune  happens  as  that  any  dish 
is  spoiled — as  a  burned  fowl — and  cannot  be  brought  to  the 
table,  let  the  hostess  give  no  hint  of  the  disaster,  and  make  no 
apologies.     However,  if  she  has  given  to  the  last  possible  min- 
ute a  wary  eye  to  her  kitchen,  such  disasters  arc  unlikely  to 
occur.     I  have  said  nothing  of  serving  wines;  I  only  mention  it 
now  to  assure  you  that  a  dinner  can  be  served  in  good  style  and 
in  perfectly  good  taste  without  a  drop  cf  .vine,  or  other  fermented, 
malt  or  alcoholic  liquors  used  in  preparing  it  or  served  with  it, 
and  I  entreat  you  all   heartily  to  set  >'oursclvcs   against  the 
drinking  customs  of  society,  and  avoid  putting  on  your  tables 
that  which  may  be  the  ruin  of  your  own  households  and  a  snare 
to  the  soul  of  your  neighbor." 

"  I'm  a  temperance  man  from  this  out,"  declared  James  Fred- 
erick. 

"  I'll  give  a  dinner  next  week,"  laughed  Sara ;  "  it  looks  so 

easy ! 

"Yes,  it  looks  easy,"  cried  Belinda;  "but  after  aU  there  is  a 
tremendous  amount  of  work  to  be  done  in  a  well-ordered  house- 
hold, and  how  is  one  ever  to  do  it?" 

"  I  suppose  that  is  where  the  good  management  conies  in," 
said  her  elder  sister. 

"That  is  it  exactly,"  I  said:  "good  management  makes  all 
this  work  move  easily  in  its  proper  order;  it  takes  away  the 
attrition  and  drag  caused  by  disorder,  people  sec  their  way 
through  each  day,  and  know  that  for  another  day's  work  there 
will  be  another  day.     Now  I  cut  lately  from  a  newspaper  a 


p 

mi 

r 

,4* 

KiWtZ~. 


i  J  'I  I 


'^ '., 


I    7' 


LL     ^  I 


,_Q  T//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 

4/8 

paragraph  by  an  observing  correspondent,  and  I  pasted  it  in  my 
scrap-book.  Grace,  it  is  worthy  of  being  well  read,  and  there- 
fore you  shall  read  it." 

I  handed  Grace  my  scrap-book,  and  she  read  as  follows : 
«' We  see  so  many  farmers  working  hard  from  the  beginning 
of  the  year  to  its  end,  and  that  year  a.'ter  year,  till  life  ends, 
with  such  small  results,  that  we  do  wish  to  impress  upon  the 
community  the  true  principle  of  economy  a  farmer  s  wife  once 
expressed  to  us  in  one  word-calculation.     Wc  found  her  a 
slender-looking  woman,  surrounded  by  a  flock  of  children,  and 
having  the  care  of  a  dairy  of  a  dozen  cows,  with  no  Bridget  to 
assist  her,  and  still  everything  moved  on  like  clock-work.      The 
children  were  tidy,  the  house  neat,  the  cooking  nice,  and  the 
butter  of  gilt-edged   quality.     We   watched  her  to  study  the 
secret  of  her  economical  managen:-^nl.     She  never  seemed  to  be 
in  a  hurry,  certainly  never  in  a  fret,  but  went  from  one  thing  to 
another  as  calmly  and  pleasantly  as  the  butterfly  goes  from  one 
flower  to  another.     We  noticed  that  she  had  every  convenience 
for   her  work.     Water   flowed   constantly  in  her  kitchen  and 
dairy-room,  and  her  churning  was  done  by  dog-power.     We 
A-ere  satisfied,  however,  that  the  secret  of  her  efficiency  was  not 
in  churns,  dogs,  water,  nor  any  other  conveniences  for  labor, 
and  we  finally  asked. '  How  do  you  accomplish  all  your  work 
with  such  apparent  ease?'*  With  a  toss  of  her  head  and  a 
pleasant  "smile  she  r'^.plied,  '  By  calculacion.     Before  I  go  to  bed 
I  set  my  table  and  make  all  arrangements  for  breakfast.     Before 
I  get  up  in  the  morning  I  think  over  the  labors  of  the  day,  and 
plan  everything  out,  assigning  each  duty  its  time,  and  when 
the  time  comes  I  attend  to  the  duty-and  now  the  t,me  has 
come  for  me  to  skim  my  milk  ;  so  please  excuse  me.'     Upon  th,s 
she  bowed  herself  out  with  the  grace  of  a  ^ucen.     We  could  not 
help  thinking,  happy  is  the  farmer  that  has  such  a  help-meet." 

After  a  little  discussion  of  the  theme  of  good  management  la 
domestic  work.  Grace  said : 


HO IV  TO  MAKR   HOME  HAPPY. 


479 


)asted  it  in  my 
:ad,  and  there- 

5  follows : 
,  the  beginning 
•,  till  life  ends, 
press  upon  the 
lor's  wife  once 
c  found  her  a 
if  children,  and 
1  no  Bridget  to 
ick-worlv.     The 
r  nice,  and  the 
r  to  study  the 
;r  seemed  to  be 
nn  one  thing  to 
T  goes  from  one 
2ry  convenience 
cr  kitchen  and 
;og-power.     We 
Ficiency  was  not 
cnces  for  labor, 
1  all  your  work 
icr  head  and  a 
:fore  I  go  to  bed 
-cakfast.     Before 
;  of  the  day,  and 
time,  and  when 
ow  the  time  has 
me.'     Upon  this 
We  could  not 
;h  a  help-meet." 
d  management  in 


"  How  time  flics,  and  there  are  dozens  of  things  which  I 
wanted  to  ask  Aunt  Sophronia  to  give  us  a  few  suggestions 
about.  There  are  so  many  little  ways  of  adding  to  the  hap 
piness  of  home." 

"  Yes,"   said   Ned   Burr,  "  and  one  of  my  favorite  ways  i 
keeping  house-plants.     I  dote  on  them.     They  nuke  a  hous 
twice  as  handsome,  and  there  is  always  something  fresh,  curious 
and  interesting  in  them  to  It    k  at.     I  mean  to  have  plenty  of 
them  in  my  house.     What  say  you  about  them,  ladies  ?  " 

"  Some  people  have  the  knack  of  keeping  them,  and  have 
splendid  luck  with  them,"  said  Miss  Black ;  "  but  as  sure  as  I 
try  to  have  any,  they  die  of  a  hundred  diseases  unknown  before, 
somebody  runs  into  my  stand  and  knocks  it  over,  or  a  terrific 
freeze  reduces  them  all  to  black  stalks." 

"  Diseases  are  often  occasioned,"  replied  Ned  Burr,  "  by  the 
green  plant-fly  which  sucks  out  their  juice,  or  by  worms  in  the 
pot.  For  the  fly,  soapsuds  or  weak  tobacco  water  syringed 
over  the  plants,  or  washing  leaves  and  stems  in  ammonia  water 
with  a  camel'-s-hair  brush  will  be  a  means  of  riddance ;  for 
worms  in  the  pot,  wet  with  weak  lime  water;  the  red  spider  is 
a  vile  plague,  but  a  shower-bath  and  moist  air  will  settle  him. 
If  your  flowers  mould  or  mildew,  blow  a  little  sulphur  powder 
on  them  through  a  quill." 

"  Some  plants  fall  ill,"  said  Sarah,  "  from  too  dry  air ;  a  pan 
of  water  should  stand  on  the  stove,  or  a  wet  towel  should  be 
hung  over  the  register  to  moisten  the  air.  Sometimes  the  fee- 
bleness of  the  plant  is  caused  by  lack  of  nourishment :  ammonia 
water  supplies  this;  at  other  times  the  earth  gets  packed  too 
closely  in  the  pot,  and  no  air  meets  the  roots :  it  is  well  to  stir 
the  earth  lightly  with  a  fork.  Each  pot  should  have  drainage, 
and  flowers  should  not  be  kept  too  wet,  especially  in  cold 
weather,  for  it  causes  them  then  to  frost  more  easily.  We 
should  remember  the  ways  of  nature:  leaves  and  stems  ais 


si-l 


. 


;r 


: 


r//E   COMPLETE   HOME. 

w.t  and  washed  by  the  summer  shower,  and  often  a  soaking 
rain  penetrates  even  to  the  lowest  roots  and  '  fills  all  their  vems 
with  coolness;'  but  the  earth  is  not  all  the  time  sodden  on  the 
surface     PL'  nts  need  fresh  air  several  times  a  week  :  if  the  sun  is 
shining  and  the  temperature  is  not  too  low.  open  the  wmdoW 
upon  them  and  let  them  broathe;  give  them  sun  according  to 
their  kind.     If  they  get  frost-nipped,  set  them  in  a  dark  place 
and  shower  them  daily  with  cold  water,  gradually  raismg  the.r 
temperature.     When  the  plant  promises  to  bloom  too  early,  n.p 
out  the  flower  bud.     When  a  branch  or  leaf  cluster  puts  out  m 
an   ungainly  place,  nip  it  off.      Sometimes  when  the  plant  ,s 
sickly  a  close  pruning  and  removing  it  to  another  pot  will  help 
it      Pick  off  dead  leaves  :  do  not  let  them  exhaust  the  plant  by 
hangincr  on  h.lf-withered.     If  plants  are  to  add  to  the  happmess 
of  home,  let  the  home  have  a  share  in  them:  let  the  children 
own  some  and  cultivate  them,  let  them  be  used  to  decorate  the 
table,  and  to  send  to  the  poor  or  the  sick.     The  plants  w.U  look 
better  for  all  the   good  they  can  be  made  to  do.     Let  each 
member  of  the  family  have  his  favorite  flowers;  some  prefer  one 
kind,  some  another.     Plants  should  be  on  a  strong  stand  th.t 
cannot  be  readily  knocked  over,  and  which  is  on  casters  so  that 
it  can  be  moved  occasionally  in  cleaning  the  room.'  ^^      _ 

"  Speaking  of  house-plants,  and  of  their  care  in  wmter,    said 
Hester  "  reminds  me  of  that  long,  cold  season  when  the  day- 
light flies  early.     If  home  is  to  be  happy,  we  must  have  some 
entertainment  for  these  long  evenings.     Even  where  the  famdy 
are  en^^aged  in  study,  there  are  some  free  evenings,  and  an  hour 
or  so  Tach  evening  to  spare.    A  home  is  not  fulfilling  its  m.ss.on 
Where  the  family  must  go  abroad  to  find  all  their  entertainment. 
.'That  is  true,"  I  responded;  "and  first,  one  thinks  of  music 
as  a  family  entertainment.     Where  young  people  have  musical 
taste,  and  can  sing  and   play  together,  and   are  able  to  have 
two  or  three  instruments,  as  piano,  organ,  flute,  viohn  or  guitar. 


in  a  soaking 
11  their  veins 
jdden  on  the 
:  if  the  sun  is 
1  the  window 
according  to 
a  dark  place 
■  raising  their 
too  early,  nip 
sr  puts  out  in 
the  plant  is 
pot  will  help 
it  the  plant  by 
the  happiness 
t  the  children 
o  decorate  the 
l;ints  will  look 
do.     Let  each 
ome  prefer  one 
)ng  stand  thr.t 
casters  so  that 

Ll." 

in  winter,"  said 
when  the  day- 
ust  have  some 
■here  the  family 
rr.s.  and  an  hour 
lling  its  mission 

entertainment." 
thinks  of  music 
le  have  musical 
re  able  to  have 

violin  or  guitar, 


I/O IV  TO  MAKE   HOME   HAPPY. 


481 


ihcy  will  pass  many  hours  in  innocent  happiness,  entertaining 

themselves,  and  pleasing  the  friends  who  come  in.      Another 

very  charming   accomplishment — one,    indeed,   which   has   no 

superior — is  that  of  reading  aloud  well.     As  some  families  are 

all  good  musicians,  so  there  are  some  who  are  all  good  readers ; 

in  cither  case  the  faculty  should  be  sedulously  cultivated.     Some 

families  are  happy  in  possessing  both   readers  and  musicians. 

By  good  reading  I  do  not  mean  loud,  excited,  tragical  tones — 

these  often  strain  and  weary  the  hearer ;  but  good  reading  seizes 

the  spirit  of  the  piece  read,  understands  its  heart  meaning,  and 

through  the  ear  translates  it  to  the  listener's  heart.     It  gives  the 

fun,  the  pathos,  the  excitement,  wonder,  logic,  or  confusion,  and 

quaint  turn,  which  were  in  the  author's  mind. 

"  In  good  reading   there   is    nothing    mechanical.     It  is  not 

droning  over  a  certain  set  of  sounds,  which  mean  nothing  to  the 

heart  of  the  reader,  and,  consequently,  not  to  that  of  the  hearer. 

The  reader  must  be  in  a  certain  sympathy  with  what  he  reads, 

and  by  some  subtle  magnetism  he  will  compel  the  sympathy  of 

his  listener.     This  is   an   accomplishment  which  seems  to  be 

always  in  place.     There  are  in  many  households  some  whose 

eyes  will  not  permit  them  to   read  much  for   themselves ;   or 

there  are  some  who    can    illy  spare  time  to  read.     The  busy 

mother  finds  herself  in  a  strait  betwixt  two :  she  wishes  to  read 

and  enjoy  th.  last  book,  or  to  take  the  paper  and  find  out  what 

is  going  on  in  the  world ;  but  she  has  the  family  mending  to  do. 

How  much  more  swiftly  will  her  needle  fly  through  rents  and 

darns  when  a  good  reader  is  filling  her  ear  with  sweet  sounds 

and  fascinating  descriptions,  adding  to  the  '  charm  of  the  poet, 

the  music  of  the  voice.'     By  reading,  many  can  be  gratified  at 

once.     Little  children  are  generally  fascinated  by  the  reading 

even  of  things  which  they  do  not  understand,  and  there  is  no 

finer  and  surer  way  to  develop  mind  than  this.     Young  people 

may  be  led,  by  the  charm  of  being  read  to,  to  follow  such  works 
SI 


^X- 


t  '  i 


u 


'^ 


4g2  77/£'     COMPLIiTE   HOME. 

as  Bancroft,  Motley,  Macaulay,  Rawlinson,  and  other  weighty 
writers.  The  sick,  unless  they  are  very  sick,  find  the  hours  of 
illness  beguiled  of  their  tedium  by  a  good  reader,  lie  who 
reads  well  can  bring  in  their  full  impressivcness  to  the  invalid's 
ear  some  suitable  passages  of  Scripture.  Nothing  more  culti- 
vates good  taste,  intelligence  and  family  affection,  than  this 
accomplishment.  Be  sure,  then,  and  all  learn  to  road  well 
aloud." 

"And,"  said  Miriam,  "  next  to  the  art  of  reading  well,  let  us 
set  the  art  of  telling  a  story  well.  What  can  make  the  family 
table  more  genial,  than  to  have  some  one  tell,  really  well,  an 
appropriate  and  not  too  long  story?  It  persuades  the  mind 
from  care,  and  awakens  that  jolly  laughter  which  promotes 
digestion.  No  art  is  more  needful  to  a  mother  than  this  of 
story-telling.  It  charms  away  the  pain  of  a  sick  child ;  dis- 
sipates a  fit  of  sulks,  or  a  quarrel,  as  the  sun  pi't.^-  to  flight  a 
cloud ;  while  children's  minds  seize  best  the  moral  lesson  con- 
tained in  a  short  story.  We  have  in  the  Parables  aif  example  of 
conveying  teaching  in  a  tale." 

"  I  never  could  tell  a  story ,  well,"  said  Helen.  "  I  begin, 
'  Well,  once  upon  a  time,'  but  I  come  to  the  end  of  everything 
almost  immediately.  The  middle  of  my  narrative  In  exactly 
like  the  beginning,  and  the  end  is  just  like  the  middle,  while  all 
the  parts  arc  as  near  each  othftr  as  peas  in  a  pod.  My  story  is 
just  like  that  horrible  thing  they  used  to  torment  me  with  when 
\  was  little : 

" '  I'll  tell  you  a  story  of  old  Mother  Corey,  and  now  my  tlory's  be^un  | 
I'll  tell  you  another,  about  her  brother,  and  now  my  story's  dum,'.*  " 

We  all  laughed  at  Helen's  description  of  her  truly  Arabian 
powers  ;  but  Hester  said,  briskly : 

"You  can  tell  a  story  well  if  you  only  think  you  can,  Helen. 
You  have  niade  a  very  nice  little  story  of  your  trials  in  this  line. 
Forget  that  it  is  a  story  that  you  are  telling ;  put  out  of  youi 


d  other  weighty 
nd  the  hours  of 
cader.  I  Ic  who 
is  to  tlic  invalid's 
hing  more  cuUi- 
jction,  than  this 
rn   to   read  well 

idin<j  well,  let  us 
make  the  family 
11,  really  well,  an 
iuades  the  mind 
which  jiromolcs 
her  than  this  of 
sick  child  ;  dis- 
I  pi'ts  to  flight  a 
noral  lesson  con- 
es ail  example  uf 

[elcn.  "  I  begin, 
nd  of  everything 
rative  is  exactly 
middle,  while  all 
od.  My  stt)ry  is 
nt  me  with  wlicn 


IfOfV   TO   MAKE   HOME  HAPPY. 


485 


mind  everything  but  what  you  are  talking  about.  Wlicn  you 
read,  or  hear  a  nice  thing,  go  over  it  in  your  mind  several  times 
thinking  hou-  best  to  t.ll  it.  Tale-telling  is  an  art  worthy  of 
cultivation.  A  good  story-teller  is  a  good  talkc-r.  and  a  .rood 
talker  is  ahrays  welcome.  Like  a  new  Curtius.  he  throws  him, 
self  into  the  awful  chasm  which  will  open  in  the  midst  of  con- 
versations, and  so  rescues,  if  not  his  country,  the  company." 

"If  it  is  lawful  to  compare  small  things  to  great;  as  said  the 
shepherd,  talking  of  great  Rome  and  Mantua,"  said  Ned  Burr. 

And  as  it  was  now  quite  late  my  merry  guests  departed, 
declaring  that  the  evening  had  been  as  profitable  as  it  had  been' 
pleasant 


iy  itory'H  be^un  i 
stury's  iloiu;.'  " 

ler  truly  Arabian 


you  can,  Helen. 

trials  in  this  tine. 

put  out  of  youf 


'M 


I'UlHi 


1! 


1%' 


,  Pi,, 


• 


II 


It 


CHAPTER    XX. 

ANCIENT   AND    MEDIEVAL   HOMES. 

i'uR  last  Christmas  week   proved  a  very  agreeable  and 
instructive  occasion  to  many  in  our  village.      We  re- 
ceived a  great  deal  of  information  about  the  Homes  of 
^       Other  Days.     It  happened  that  at  a  church  sociable, 
held  about  the  middle  of  December,  Mr.  Winton  made  some 
remarks  about  Christmas  as  peculiarly  a  /lomc /csiival ;  not  on  y 
is  it  the  festival  which  with  gifts  and  games  seems  especially 
dear  to  children,  and  most  warmly  celebrated  in  homes  where 
there  are  young  people,  but  it  commemorates  the  birth  of  the 
Christ  C/a/d,  the  setting  up  of  the  family  of  Joseph  and  Mary, 
the  coming  near  to  men  of  God  as  a  Father,  and  Christ  a.  an 
elder  Brother.     This  led  to  some  talk  about  the  various  lands 
where  Christmas  is  celebrated,  and  about  the  various  centunes 
in  which  this  holiday  has  been  observed,  and  so  on  to  talk  of 
Homes  in  different  ages. 

I  think  it  was  Hester  who  finally  proposed  that  Christmas 
week  should  by  us  be  dedicated  to  a  set  of  sociables  at  var.ous 
houses,  whereat  our  host  should  tell  us  whatever  was  possible 
of  some  ancient  fashion  of  heme,  using  whatever  illustrations 
of  picture  or  relic  might  be  convenient. 

"The  first  of  theso  homes  which  we  discuss,"  said  Mr.  Burr. 
•<  must  be  the  patriarchal,  and  1  propose  that  we  hold  our  first 
meeting  at  the  parsonage,  and  our  minister  shall  tell  v.;  v.  hat  ho 
knows  of  man's  earliest  home-lite." 

"It  is  probable,"  said  our  minister,  when  we  were  all  i.jatcd 
(^1 


icireeablc  and 
ige.      We  re- 
the  Homes  of 
lurch  sociable, 
)n  made  some 
'ival;  not  only 
cms  especially 
1  homes  where 
he  birth  of  the 
:ph  and  Mary, 
nd  Christ  a-  an 
ic  various  lands 
irious  centuries 

0  on  to  talk  of 

that  Christmas 
iablcs  at  various 
rer  was  possible 
ver  ilUu-.trations 

"  said  Mr.  Burr, 
vc  hold  our  firiJt 

1  tell  i:;  \^lKit  he 


;  were  all  i.^-ated 


%*' 


■Js'V 


,* 


t'V 


if 


,'r:^3^../fc*i^v 


!■i.•^llp»^^^H»*■ 


'itWHij'WMpf. 


rfli 


f'^t'm'sfmi 


iJki^K^ttU  iA\  >ii  'II 


^'  -4 


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mtm 


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m 


I 


III 
III 

LI. 

1 

fl' 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDIMVAL   HOMES.  435 

in  his  parlor  at  our  first  Christmas  sociable,  "that  the  domestic 
hfe  of  Terah.  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob  was  very  much  hke 
that  led  by  the  patriarchs  before  the  flood.     We  must  remember 
first,  that  the  very  long  lives  of  men  in  those  days  would  be 
hkely  to  advance  rapidly  art  and  invention,  and  we  must  not 
look  upon  these  early  fl.thers  of  our  race  as  hving  in  a  gross  or 
barbaric  state,  but  surrounded  by  the  simple  comforts  of  life- 
and  next  we  must  remember,  that  while  these  patriarchs  lived 
a   wandering   life   in   tents,  continuing  probably  much  of  the 
manner  of  living  of  the  Antediluvians,  in  Chaldea,  and  Egypt 
and   possibly    in   other   countries,   men   were    living  in   cities' 
raising  great  buildings,  tombs,  palaces  and  temples ;  were  going 
to  war,  and    devoting   themselves   to  manufactures,  and   agri- 
culture,  and   all   the   arts   of   life.      But   the   tent-life   of   the 
patriarch  is  our  earliest  model  of  the  Home.     Before  the  Flood 
the  children  of  Seth  most  likely  abode  in  the  territory  called 
the  Land  of  Eden,  and  worshipped  God  before  the  fiery  presence 
or  Shekinah,  which  kept  the  gate  of  Eden.     After  the  Flood 
we  find  the  patriarchs  building  an  altar  for  worship  and  sacrifice 
wherever  they  made  a  stay  of  a  few  months.     The  chief  prop- 
erty of  the  patriarchs  consisted  of  flocks,  and  herds,  and  droves 
of  camels,  and  asses.     The  enumeration  of  Jobs  wealth  gives 
us  an  idea  of  these  possessions  of  an  eastern  rich  man.     These 
required  a  vast  number  of  servants  to  attend  them.     'Servants 
born  in  the  house'  represent  master  and  dependents  clinging 
together  for  generations.    If  the  master  were  childless,  the  chief 
of  his  servants  was  likely  to  become  his  heir.     The  master  of 
the  family  was  both  its  king  and  priest:   he  administered  the 
Aiws  and  offered  sacrifices.     Chief  over  the  servants  stood  the 
•steward,  who  was  to  his  master  a  faithful,  confidential  friend, 
as  Eliezer  to  Abraham,  given  even  such  business  as  selecting  a' 

wifp  for  hie  m-icf<>.-'o  c^n        Tk- *-.-•       <•   -L      r        -i 

"""•      inc  extent  or  ihc  family  retinue  may 

be  guessed  from  the  fact  that  Abraham  could  arm  three  hundred 


IS 

1 


1.1 


186 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


men  from  his  own  trained  servants.     Such  an  immense  estab- 
lishment moved  slowly  through  a  country.     The  choice  of  a 
re.sting-place  depended  on  certain  natural  advantages:  a  grove 
for  shade,  near  lying  pasture  and  water.      Finding  these    the 
tents  were  pitched,  an  altar  built,  a  well  or  two  dug,  and  the 
servants,  with  the  different  flocks  and  herds,  scattered  themselves 
in  suitable  locations  at  greater  or  less  distance.     So  Job  s  flocks 
and  herds  were  stationed  over  a  large  extent  of  country,  and 
Jacob's  sons  removed  with  their  flocks  to  a  distance  of  several 
days'  journey.     On  the  line    of  march   the  camels  and  asses 
were   laden   with   the  tents    and    furniture;    the   women   and 
children  sometimes  rode  and  sometimes  walked,  and  the  pace 
suited  the  needs  of  the  flocks  and  herds  accompanied  by  the.r 

young."  ,  /■ 

"  It  seems,"  said  Mr.  Nugent,  "  that  I  now  get  a  clear  view  of 
such  a  cavalcade  moving  slowly  through  the  land;  and  now  that 
they  have  found  a  grove  like  that  of  oaks  at  Mamre,  how  does 
their  encampment  look  ?  "  ^^ 

"Their  tents,"  said  our  minister,  resuming  his  theme,     were 
of  skins  or  of  cloth  of  woven  hair.     The  coarse  black  hair  of 
the   camel    made   a   dark   tent,  referred   to   in  the  expression, 
'black  as  the  tents  of  Kedar.'     These  tents  were  supported  by 
poles      The  master  and  mistress  had  large  ones;  the  servants 
smaller,  according  to  their  position.     Often  in  summer  the  ser- 
vants  especially  the  flock-tenders,  slept  in  the  open  air,  or  ,n 
booths  made  of  branches.     The  tents  are  pitched  in  a  circle 
generally,  and  if  the  camping  is  for  a  long  period,  a  light  watch- 
^ower  is  erected  a  short  distance  off.     The  patriarch  had  a  tent 
for  himself;  his  wife  had  her  own,  where  her  younger  children 
remained  with  her;  a  tent  was  often  reserved  for  the  reception 
of  guests;    the  principal  women-servants   had  their  tent;   the 
grown  sons  had  theirs,  and  as  the  sons  took  wives  n.w  tents 
were  added  to  the  camp.     The   large   tents  were  divided  by 


\    lii 


n 


lense  estab- 
:hoice  of  a 
es;  a  grove 
T  these,  the 
lug,  and  the 
i  themselves 
,  Job's  flocks 
country,  and 
ca  of  several 
Is  and  asses 
women   and 
ind  the  pace 
nied  by  their 

clear  view  of 
and  now  that 
nre,  how  does 

theme,  "  were 

black  hair  of 

le  expression, 

supported  by 

;  the  servants 

mmer  the  ser- 

)pea  air,  or  in 

led  in  a  circle 

a  light  watch- 

irch  had  a  tent 

unger  children 

r  the  reception 

their  tent;   the 

/ivc3,  rif^w  tents 

ere  divided  by 


ANCIENT  A^'    MEDIEVAL   HOMES, 


487 


nrtains  into  three  apartments.  The  furniture  was  simple  :  mats 
and  rugs,  pillows  and  coverlets,  in  use  at  night,  wore  piled  up 
by  day  for  seats;  the  camels'  furniture  also  served  as  scats. 
Hand-mills  for  grinding  wheat,  bottles  of  leather,  pots  and 
basins,  a  portable  oven,  and  flat  plates  or  trays  of  metal,  were 
among  the  principal  belongings,  with  cups,  pitchers,  and  knives. 
People  generally  ate  from  a  large  common  dish,  usin^  their 
hands  or  a  cake  of  bread  to  dip  up  their  food ,  hence,  fre- 
quent washings  of  the  hands." 

"And,"  I  asked,  "  what  were  the  occupations  of  these  fam- 
ilies?" 

"  Many  of  the  servants,  also  the  sons  of  the  family,  led  out 
the  flocks  to  pasture,  and  guarded  them  i)ight  and  day.  The 
steward  oversaw  this  work,  and  morning  and  evening  'told  '  or 
counted  the  flocks.  Some  members  of  the  family  hunted, 
bringing  in  game  for  food.  This  was  Esau's  favorite  occupa- 
tion. Sometimes  the  nomades  remained  long  enough  in  a 
locality  to  raise  a  crop  of  grain,  or  harvest  fruit,  or  gather  a 
vintage,  drying  grapes  and  dates,  and  making  wine.  The 
women  spun  and  wove  the  garments  for  the  family  and  the 
curtains  of  the  tents.  The  men  made  sandals  and  camels' 
furniture,  and  dressed  skins.  When  guests  camt,  the  master 
and  mistress  showed  their  hospitality  by  themselves  serving 
them,  preparing  food  and  so  forth,  instead  of  delegating  these 
offices  to  serx'ants.  Their  principal  diversions  were  in  music, 
having  a  number  of  simple  instruments,  usually  accompanied 
by  the  voice;  also  the  telling  of  stories  and  reciting  of  poems: 
these  are  yet  the  chief  diversions  of  Oriental  lands.  Writing 
was  practised,  and  astronomy  was  a  favorite  study." 

"And  what  about  their  dress  ?  "  demanded  Helen. 

"Travelling  caravans  supplied  them  with  the  fine  linen  of 
Egj'pt,  and  the  dyed  stuffs  of  Phoenicia,  and  the  splendid  cloths 
of  the  Assyrians  and  Chaldeans.    The  women  spun,  wove  and 


*Mfii 


y^ 


m 


J  ' 


;* 


ii 


I'  % 


If  fi 


ill 

II 

r 


iiii 


48S 


rffS   COMPLETE  HOME. 


sewed  The  veil  was  a  customary  and  often  elaborate  article. 
Jewels  as  rings,  bracelets,  anklets,  head-tires  and  necklaces, 
were  purchased  from  caravans,  and  much  property  was  invested 
in  these  and  in  mirrors  of  polished  metal.  They  also  wore 
elaborate  embroideries.  Perfumes  were  in  constant  use,  and 
much  time  was  occupied  in  preparing  them.  The  staff,  the  seal 
and  the  amulet  were  choice  personal  possessions.  Combs  and 
pins  of  metal,  highly  ornamented,  were  also  among  their  treas- 
ures. Scarlet  and  white  were  the  choice  hues  ;  black  and  deep 
brown  belonged  to  servants  and  to  mourning." 

"And  what  were  the  chief  articles  of  food?"  asked  Miriam. 
"Vegetables,  especially  varieties  of  beans  and  melons;  fruit, 
the  f^g^date,  grape  and  olive  being  chief;  wheaten  cakes,  olive 
oil  and  honey;  milk,  cheese  and  curds;  fish,  when  obtainable; 
locusts,  game,  birds,  and  the  flesh  of  goats,  sheep,  and  kine, 
but  flesh  was  sparingly  used.     The  killing  of  an  animal  for  food 
was  regarded  in  a  half  sacrificial  light.     The  animal  was  chosen 
and  killed  by  the  patriarch  himself,  and  the  blood  was  poured 
out   in    sacrifice.      The   wife,      ^en    though    a   chief   princess, 
esteemed  it  her  proper  duty  to  prepare  the  food,  leaving  but 
minor  parts  of  this  work  to  her  attendant  maids.     Water,  milk, 
the  juice  of  dates,  and  a  sour  thin  wine  of  gra'  es  afforded  their 
drink.     Sweetmeats  of  fruit  and  honey  were  in  use." 

"  Hospitality  was  freely  exercised.  I  think,"  said  John  Roche. 

ford. 

"  Yes,  the  orientals  were  always  noted  for  this :  a  guest  was 
always  in  some  sort  an  angel  unawares,  breaking  the  monotony 
of  then-  lives.  They  had  also  family  feasts  and  festivals,  as  on 
the  naming  or  weaning  of  a  child,  or  his  coming  to  man's 

After  this  information  given  by  our  pastor,  we  spent  the 
remainder  of  the  evenmg  in  general  discussion  of  the  theme, 
and  appointed  our  next  meeting  at  Hester's,  where  she  and 


I'P   \ 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDIALVAI.    HOMES. 


489 


)rate  article. 
\  necklaces, 
was  invested 
f  also  wore 
int  use,  and 
jtaff,  the  seal 
Combs  and 
r  their  treas- 

■y 

ick  and  deep 

d  Miriam, 
nelons;  fruit, 
1  cakes,  olive 
1  obtainable; 
sp,  and  kine, 
limal  for  food 
il  was  chosen 
d  was  poured 
hief   princess, 
d,  leaving  but 
Water,  milk, 
afforded  thc".r 

\  John  Roche 

; :  a  guest  was 

the  monotony 

festivals,  as  on 

ning  to  man's 

we  spent  the 

of  the  theme, 
where  she  and 


Doctor  Nugent  must  be  prepared  to  expound  to  us  the  Classic 
Home.     We  expected  something  rather  nice  at  Hester's,  because 
there   they  have  plenty  of  money,  and  their  house  is  full  of 
curioj5itics  and  antiquities,  while  we  knew  their  hearts  were  set 
on  entertaining   us   as  well  as  possible.     We   were  not   disap- 
pointed.    We  were  received  in  the  front  parlor,  and  when  the 
hour  foi-  the  Home  discussion  came,  the  folding  doors  were  drawn 
back,  and  we  found  hung  across  the  whole  width  of  the  back 
parlor  a   large   painted   canvas,  representing  the  interior  of  a 
Cla.ssic  H^me.    Before  this  picture  .stood  a  low  table  with  various 
curiosities  piled  upon  it.     Doctor  Nugent  began  the  discussion. 
"We  have  concluded  to  discuss,  under  the  head  of  the  Cla.ssic 
Home,  both  the  homes  of  Greece  and  Italy,  without  dividing 
b-'tween  them;  especially  as  in  an  evening  like  this,  one  can  only 
describe  chief  points   without   going  into  particulars.     The  pic- 
ture which  we  have  here  represents  the  restoration  of  one  of  the 
homes  in   Pompeii,  and  from  it  we  gather  a  general  idea  of  the 
home  of  z,  rich  citizen  of  Greece  or  Rome  about  the  time  of 
Christ.     In   Rome,  the  home  of  the  Empress   Livia  has  been 
found  and  laid  open;  also,  in  Greece, we  have  found  the  remains 
of  both  palaces  and  private  homes,  and  we  find  the  same  general 
plan  in  all.     Observe  that  the  rooms  are  small,  the  ceilings  are 
low,  the  walls  are  painted  in  brilliant  hues — orange,  scarlet  and 
bluj  being  favorite;  and  pictures  are  not  framed  and  hung  on 
the  wall  as  with  us,  but  painted  upon  it.     The  chief  floors  are 
mosaiced — that  is,  made  of  small  cubes  of  stones  of  various 
colors,  bedded  solidly  in  mortar  to  form  a  pattern  as  a  border, 
corner  arabesques,  and  a  centre-piece,  as  a  pair  of  doves,  a  dog, 
a   group   of  figures,   or   flowers.     These    rooms   enter  upon  a 
central  court,  open  to  the  sky,  but  screened  by  a  pavilion  from 
the   sun.     Mere   plays    a   fountain,   the    delight    of  the   whole 
family ;  here  vines  grow,  and  jars  of  plants  arc  in  bloom.     The 
floor  of  the  court  is  in  mosaic;  around  the  sides  and  around 


i'  1':r 


III,      IS 


•i } 


it'   5f 
I'        I 


T'M 


II 


I    I 


dl! 


^1 

I   .  1 !  '. 


"  11 


M 


4i.O 


rATfi    COMPLETE   HOME. 


the  fountain  arc  seats  or  divans  in  marble  or  stone ;  the  an,cients 
cLlightcd  in  statuary,  and  choice  works  of  art  are  placed  in  the 
court  or  in  the  rooms  opening  from  it.  These  were  supposed  to 
create  beauty  of  body  and  mind  in  the  beholders." 

"  I  observe,"  said  Mrs.  VVinton,  "  that  these  rooms  have  not 
doors,  but  draperies  hanging  from  their  door-posts." 

■'  Yes,"  said  Doctor  Nugent,  "  and  notice  the  elegance  of  the 
effect.  Thf.se  walls  are  of  white  marble,  or  the  pillars  are  of 
polished  f!-one  or  carved  wood.  Here  hang  these  heavy  cur- 
tains in  blue,  purple  or  scarlet,  with  gold  embroideries  or  deep 
fringes :  they  can  be  dropped  for  privacy  or  looped  back,  throw- 
ing the  whole  house  into  one  apartment.  For  windows  we  have 
only  these  smr^ll,  high-up,  latticed  openings ;  for  fires  the  bra- 
zier full  of  glowing  coals;  or  possibly  some  of  the  apartments 
have  a  raised  floor  under  which  heat  is  introduced,  and  that  is 
called  the  hypocaiist — a  Greek  word  meaning  a  fire  beneath.  I 
wish  to  say  that  the  Classic  Home  carefully  attended  to  three 
important  points :  heat,  drainage  and  baths.  The  drains  were 
supplied  with  metal  or  clay-pipes  running  to  the  cloacce  or 
drains  of  the  city ;  the  houses  also  had  deep,  covered  rubbish 
pits,  and  water  was  freely  introduced.  When  one  looks  at  frag- 
ments of  ancient  plumbing,  one  wonders  at  so  small  present 
advance  in  the  plumber's  art.  The  bath-rooms  had  tubs,  seats 
around  the  sides  and  gayly  painted  walls.  The  beauty  of  the 
painted  and  frescoed  walls,  the  elegance  lent  by  open  jars  oi 
vases  of  perfume,  the  presence  of  elegant  statuary  and  the' abun- 
dant use  of  flowers  gave  these  homes  a  marvellous  grace  and 
refinement,  and  we  do  not  wonder  that  they  produced  painters» 
poets,  sculptors,  orators.  Notice  also  that  the  Classic  Home  is 
a  religious  Home  in  its  way:  the  fire  on  the  hearth-stone  is 
sacred  to  the  household  lares,  or  hearth-gods ;  this  shrine  with 
images  is  the  place  of  the  penaics,  or  household  divinities,  and 
here  they  offer  flowers,  incense  and  prayers.     In  this  corner  of 


;  the  aacients 

placed  in  the 

e  supposed  to 

ims  have  not 

sgance  of  the 
pillars  are  of 
se  heavy  cur- 
Jeries  or  deep 
1  back,  throW' 
dows  we  have 
fires  the  bra- 
le  apartments 
d,  and  that  is 
e  beneath.  I 
ndcd  to  three 
J  drains  were 
:he  cloacce  or 
/ered  rubbish 
looks  at  frag- 
small  present 
ad  tubs,  seats 
beauty  of  the 
open  jars  or 
and  the  abun 
us  grace  and 
jced  painters^ 
issic  Home  is 
earth-stone  is 
is  shrine  with 
jivinities.  and 
this  corner  of 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDIM  VAL   HOMES. 


491 


the  largest  room  you  see  a  carved  wooden  chest,  something  like 
a  little  wardrobe:  that  is  the  family  book-case.  In  that  arc 
kept  the  precious  parchment  books,  rolled  and  tied,  wrapped  in 
silk,  and  scattered  with  perfumes.  Books  were  not  then  given 
to  children  to  tear  up :  books  were  venerated  and  treasured,  and 
were  choice  heirlooms.  Here  is  something  else  which  was  an 
heirloom :  this  elegant  vase  and  bowl  of  Samian  ware ;  tl  est 
and  crystal  goblets  were  choice  treasures.  We  are  told  of  one 
Roman  noble  who  condemned  a  slave-boy  to  be  eaten  alive  by 
carp,  because  at  a  feast  he  broke  a  crystal  goblet.  The  emperor, 
who  was  present,  for  his  cruelty,  freed  the  slave,  and  ordered 
all  this  master's  goblets  to  be  broken." 

"  I  should  like,"  said  Mrs.  Winton,  "  to  hear  something  of 
these  slaves." 

"  They  were,"  said  Doctor  Nugent,  "  both  captives  taken  in  war 
and  slaves  born  in  the  house.  Power  of  life,  death  and  torture 
lay  in  the  hands  of  the  masters,  and  often  this  power  cruelly  ex- 
ercised, so  that  tlv  ;  Slav,  ry  was  often  a  terrible  thing.  Another 
view  of  it  is,  that  slaves  being  made  free  could  take  any  rank  in 
society  to  which  they  had  genius  to  attain,  and  reached  often 
very  loft)-  positions,  being  friends  of  emperors  and  nobles.  They 
were  idopted  and  made  heirs  by  childless  masters ;  they  were 
often  educated  to  be  the  family  schoolmasters  or  tutors.  The 
famous  philosopher  Epictetus  was  a  slave.  They  were  often  the 
scribes  and  readers  of  the  family;  if  the  master  were  too  lazy  to 
learn  his  letters,  he  had  his  slave  learn  in  his  place.  Many  of 
thcoc  slaves  were  artists  and  artificers." 

"  Let  us  hear  something  about  dress  and  social  customs," 
said  Mrs.  Burr. 

"  That  is  Mrs.  Nugcnt's  part  of  the  discussion,"  said  the  Doc- 
tor; and  pulling  a  cord,  he  let  down  over  the  large  canvas  of 
the  home  three  smaller  ones — the  picture  of  a  Roman  woman, 
one  of  a  young  boy,  and  a  central  picture  of  a  dining-hall,  with 
guests  seated  at  a  supper. 


J'' 
■J 


m. 


m 


*  I  vm  f 


.'    I 


if  II 


492 


r//E  COMPLETE  HOME. 


We  all  considered  the  dress  very  beautiful :  it  was  a  white 
robe,  with  wide  sleeves  falling  back  from  the  middle  of  the  arm; 
the  skirt  hanging  in  easy  folds  to  the  ankle,  and  showing  the 
ornamented  sandal ;  at  the  hem  of  the  dress,  and  at  the  waist,  a 
band  of  purple  indicated  the  wearer's  noble  blood ;  the  hair,  not 
frizzed  and  twisted  out  of  shape,  but  gathered  up  into  a  loose 
knot,  following  the  contour  of  the  head,  was  held  in  place  by  a 
l:\rgc  ornamental  pin,  and  by  a  narrow  fillet  of  gold,  passing 
r.bout  the  head.  The  fillet  was  not  the  only  jewel,  for  she  had 
rings,  bracelets  and  a  chain  ;  also  a  mirror  at  her  girdle.  The 
lad  was  represented  as  crowned  with  a  garland,  and  going  to  a 
feast,  having  just  assumed  his  toga  virilis,  or  man's  dross.  The 
picture  of  the  table  next  attracted  us. 

Said  Hester:  "This  table  occupied  three  sides  of  a  square; 
the  fourth  was  left  open  so  that  the  servants  could  freely  enter 
to  wait  on  guests.     The  host  and  his  family  occupied  the  places 
on  the  lowest  or  left-hand  sofa  or  couch— all  reclining  on  one 
arm  at  the  meal.     The  place  of  honor  was  the  lowest  on  the 
middle  couch.    Guests  were  sprinkled  with  perfumes :  it  was  the 
custom  for  the  servants  to  pour  perfumed  water  from  urns  over 
the  hands  held  above  a  basin,  and  towels  '  with  a  soft  nap '  were 
then  offered    for  wiping  them.     The  guests  wore    garlands  of 
flowers— myrtle,  parsley   and    olive    were    favorites    at    feast.s. 
Songs  and  conversation  enlivened  the  progress  of  the  fea.st;  a 
deal  of  wine  was  used,  and  the  fca.sting  was  carried  through 
many   courses   and    several    hours.     Fruits,   flesh,   vegetables, 
sweetmeats  of  all  kinds  loaded  the  tables.     Fortunes  were  .spent 
upon  a  single  meal,  and  such  dishes  as  peacocks'  brains  and 
nightingales'  tongues  were  used  for  their  costliness  rather  than 
for   their  flavor.     Honey,  used  alone  or  made  into  cakes,  was 
much  prized.     The  slaves  cooked  and  served  the  meal,  entering 
in  a  long  procession,  bearing  the  dishes.     These  slaved  waited 
on  the  table  with  their  tunics  kilted  up  out  of  the  way,  and 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDIALVAL   HOMES. 


493 


was  a -white 
c  of  ihc  arm; 

showiiit^  the 
.t  the  waist,  a 

tlio  hair,  not 
)  into  a  loose 
in  place  by  a 
gold,  passing 
;1,  for  slie  had 

girdle.  The 
id  going  to  a 
3  dress.     The 

of  a  s(iuarc; 
d  freely  enter 
led  the  places 
lining  on  one 
lowest  on  the 
ics :  it  was  the 
roni  urns  over 
soft  nap '  were 
;   garlands  of 
tes    at    feasts. 
)f  the  feast ;  a 
irried  through 
h,   vegetables, 
ncs  were  sjK'nt 
<s'  brains  nnd 
SH  rather  tlian 
iito  calces,  was 
meal,  entering 
:  slaves  waited 

the  way,  and 


Horace  ridicules  a  man  who,  to  be  fashionable,  has  his  slaves 
bind  their  robes  very  high." 

"And  did  they  use  cooking  utensils  like  ours,  and  dishes  like 
ours?"  asked  Mary  Watkins. 

"They  had  tripods  or  square  frames  .or  holding  pots  over  a 
fire;  they  used  ladles,  skimmers,  with  draining  hole,  in  them, 
knives,  long  flesh-hooks,  spits  for  roasting;  a  mill  for  grinding, 
this  mill  being  made  of  two  stones,  with  a  handle  in  the  upper 
one,  and  a  groove  out  of  which  the  flour  may  run;  they  used 
mortars  for  pounding  fruit  and  spices;  chopping  bowls  also. 
They  had  bowls,  goblets,  platters,  deep  dishes,  from  which 
several  ate  at  once ;  pitchers,  usually  of  elegant  shape ;  also 
baskets  for  bread  and  cakes.  They  had  table-cloths,  and  nap- 
kins for  the  hands.  All  household  utensils,  clothes,  draperies, 
couches,  bed  furniture,  chairs  and  foot-stools  were  expected  to 
last  longer  than  with  us ;  they  were  handed  down  from  father  to 
son  ;  much  property  was  invested  in  elegant  jewels  and  in  choice 
robes.     This  property  was  cared  for  by  the  head  slaves." 

"And  what  was  the  family  life  of  these  people  ?  "  asked  Cousin 
Ann. 

"The  young  children  remained  in  the  care  of  their  mothers; 
at  eight  or  nine  the  boys  began  to  go  to  school,  when  a  slave, 
called  a  pcdagos^iic,  followed  them  to  and  from  their  master, 
carrying  their  books  and  guarding  them.  Girls  also  learned 
reading,  v/riting  and  music,  but  were  more  usually  instructed  at 
home;  they  were  also  adepts  in  weaving,  .spinning  and  embroid 
cry.  Mothers  seem  to  have  had  a  large  influence  over  their 
sons.  These  Roman  and  Greek  ladies  were  generally  much 
devoted  to  their  religion;  were  deeply  attached  to  their  children. 
and  looked  well  to  the  ways  of  their  households ;  they  were 
often  very  cruel  to  their  .slaves,  and  this  indulgence  in  bad  pas- 
sions hardened  their  wliule  natures,  so  that  often  deformed  or 
feeble  children  were  deliberately  cast  out  at  their  birth  to  die; 


%- 


! 


494 


r//£   COMPLETE   HOME. 


or,  if  more  children  came  into  the  family  than  the  family  prop, 
erty  uould  be  likely  to  endow,  these  were  cast  out  to  perish,  or 
be  picked  up  by  strangers.  Daughters  were  often  dedicated 
from  infancy  to  be  priestesses  at  shrines,  especially  to  those  of 
Vesta  and  Diana.     Vestal  priestesses  had  high  honors." 

"What  were   the   holiday  amusements   of  these   families?" 

inquired  Belinda  Black. 

"  The  theatre,  where  plays  or  poems  were  recited  or  sung  in 
the  open  air,  was  a  favorite  resort;  gladiatorial  games ;  triumphal 
processions;  beast  fights;  shows  given  by  candidates  for  political 
honors,  or  by  the  emperors ;  the  singing  or  reciting  of  long 
poems-all  these  called  out  the  people  by  thousands.  The  Col- 
osseum was  a  magnificent  circular  building  many  stories  high, 
dedicated  entirely  to  such  displays.  Thcj-  also  loved  gardens 
and  rural  festas  ;  Jiad  many  supper  parties;  entertained  their 
callers  with  refreshments,  and  with  exhibiting  their  jewelry,  and 
the  rich  garments  brought  from  foreign  lands." 

"Were  they  not  very  extravagant   and   luxurious?"  asked 

Grace. 

"  They  became  so  by  degrees  as  they  grew  rich  and  powerful; 
they  then  indulged  madly  in  gaming,  drinking  and  feasting;  the 
softness  and  effeminacy  of  manner  that  was  once  despised  be- 
came the  prevailing  style.  Immediately  the  nation  began  to 
weaken ;  their  poets  sang  no  more  of  gods  and  heroes,  but  of 
lovers  and  of  wine  ;  their  reverence  for  tlicir  gods  perished ;  they 
grew  too  lazy  to  labor,  too  weak  to  fight ;  corruption,  bribery 
and  murder  became  common,  and  these  mighty  nations  fell  be- 
fore the  strong  barbarians  of  the  North." 

"And,"  said  Doctor  Nugent,  "it  is  the  home  of  these  Northern 
barbarians,  our  ancestors,  the  home  of  Celt.  Saxon  and  Norman, 
^t  which  we  must  next  look.  Mrs  Burr,  we  go  to  you  at  our 
next  meeting  to  hear  about  the  Celt. ' 

We  now  had  opportunity  to  examine  the  curiosities  on  tla 
table.      Belinda  Black  picked  up  a  little  glass  vial. 


amily'prop. 
;o  perish,  or 
n  dedicated 
to  those  of 


irs. 

!   families  ? " 

1  or  sung  in 
s ;  triumphal 
1  for  political 
;ing  of  long 
5.  The  Col- 
stories  high, 
ived  gardens 
rtained  their 
jewelry,  and 

ous?"  asked 

ind  powerful ; 
feasting ;  the 
despised  be- 
ion  began  to 
lieroes,  but  of 
jcrished ;  they 
ption,  bribery 
itions  fell  bc- 

hcsc  Northern 
I  and  Norman, 
to  you  at  our 

iositlcs  on  tls 
1. 


ANCIENT    AND   MEDIEVAL   HOMES. 


493 


"  What  is  this  ?  "  she  cried  ;  "  a  perfume-bottle  ?  " 
"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Winton  ;  "  that  is  a  lachrymal  or  tear-bottle, 
where  mourners  were  supposed  to  treasure  up  their  tears  as 
memoiials  of  their  woe.  You  remember  the  verse  in  the 
Psalms:  'Thou  puttest  all  my  tears  into  thy  bottle?'  These 
lachrymals  were  often  buried  with  their  dead." 

"And  what  is  this  largest  piece  in  the  centre  ? — it  looks  some- 
thing  like  a  marble  soup-tureen,"  cried  Dick. 

"  That  is  another  funereal  relic,"  said  Doctor  Nugent ;  "  that 
is  an  urn  for  the  ashes  of  the  dead.  After  the  body  was  burned 
the  ashes  were  quenched  in  wine  and  gathered  into  an  urn.  The 
body  was  burned  with  treasures  and  spices." 

A  number  of  Roman  coins,  medals,  rings  and  amulets  were 
< ,0  on  the  table.  We  especially  admired  two  lamps:  swan- 
shaped  bowls,  with  fanciful  recurved  heads,  which  served  for  a 
handle,  were  to  be  filled  with  oil,  and  in  this  a  wick  floated ;  we 
thought,  however,  they  would  be  but  a  poor  substitute  for  our 
present  lamps,  to  say  nothing  of  gas.  There  was  also  a  beauti- 
ful wide,  flat  bowl,  ornamented  with  winged  heads  and  wreaths 
of  olive,  which  Doctor  Nugent  said  was  a  bronze  patera,  from 
which  priests  poured  libations  of  oil,  wine  or  milk,  in  offering  ta 
the  gods.  A  drinking-cup,  shaped  like  a  horn,  some  comb* 
and  a  little  metal  hand-mirror  completed  the  collection. 

.  .  •  •  • 

•  •  •  ' 

"  Now,"  said  Grace  Winton,  when  we  had  gathered  at  Mrs 
Burr's,  "we  shall  hear  how  our  great-grcat-grcatest  grand- 
fathers, the  Celts,  lived  and  behaved  themselves." 

"They  must  have  been  horrible  beings,"  said  Miss  Black. 
"  I  read  that  they  went  without  clothes,  painted  themselves 
blue,  and  ate  people !     Is  that  true,  Mrs.  Burr  ?  " 

"  Doubtless,"  said   Mrs.  Burr.  "  the   barbarism  of  the  early 

C_u_    1 u ™„_~4-».^    r^f    «V.<.    cnlr.>    i^^    mncrnifv'iniT    the 
Clta    lias     Dccji    sj.-..a^gi-rai<^M     !••>     ^ —    --     a — -•      c 

races  which  came  after  them.     The  Celts  in  a  full  dress  of  blue 


«,  , 


\  «     '» 


m 


^'\ 


496 


THE    COMPLETE    HO  MR. 


\{\  i 


:f, 


>'*' "«''  » 1 J 


paint   must   have   been  eitlier  the  representatives  of  the  very 
lowest  tribes,  or  Celts  decorated  for  war  in  a  style  to  horrify 
their  enemies,  just    as    Indians    paint    themselves    for  battle. 
Probably  the  Celts  of  Ireland,  in  some  tribes  and  instances,  did 
eat  men  under  an  idea  of  vengeance,  or  to  increase,  as  il  was 
fancied,  their  bravery.     The  Celts  were  very  brave,  hardy  in 
body,  strong  of  mind,  and  with  a  fine  capacity  for  education. 
When  religion  and  education  were  introduced  into  Ireland,  the 
Celts  of  that  country  soon  became  the  saints  and  teachers  of 
the  world.     The   Celts  were   religious  in   their  natures:    their 
ideas  of  God,  the  soul  and  the  future  were  vague  but  sublime ; 
they  had  none  of  the  trifling  prettiness  of  the  classic  mythology. 
Wisdom  they  reverenced  greatly.    Their  most  promising  youths 
were  sent  to  school  to  the  Druids  to  learn  to  become  priests : 
they  sometimes  spent  twenty  years   in  their  education.     This 
time  was  employed  by  them  in  committing  runes  and  hymns. 
The  Celtic  women  were  strong  in  body  and  fierce  in  spirit ;  they 
frequently  went  to  war  with  the  men ;  they  also  loved  the  chase. 
The  weapons  o.<"  the  Celts  were  of  stone  and  bronze." 

"  What  kind   of  places  of  worship  did  they  have  ? "  asked 

Helen. 

"  Great  circles  of  stone,  open  to  the  sky,  with  an  altar  in  tlie 
centre ;  on  this  altar  they  often  sacrificed  human  victims." 
"And  what  kind  of  liouscs  did  they  have— arc  any  left?" 
"Three  or  four  remnants  of  such  houses  exist:  .some  on  t'le 
shore  of  the   Irish   Sea,  one  or  two  in  Scotland.     These  are 
beehive  huts,  with  low,  circular  stone   walls;  thoy  were  about 
fifteen    feet    in    diameter,   and   possibly   as    many  hi-h   in   the 
centre— no  fires,  no  separate  room;-..'    The  fire  was  out  of  doors. 
a  great   bonfire   in  the  centre  of   the    hut   circle,  where   they 
roasted  their  meat  on  spits  before  the  fire,  or  making  a  great 
hole,  lined  il  with  red-hot  stones,  and  putting  a  v-'hnle  boar 
therein  covered  it  with  cinders  and  hot  ashes,  and  so  baked  it" 


^XCfK.VT  AhTD   MEDIyEVAL    HOMES. 


5  of  the  very 
yle  to  horrify 
cs   for   battle. 

instances,  did 
:ase,  as  it  was 
ave,  hardy  in 
for  education, 
o  Ireland,  the 
id  teachers  of 
natures:    their 

but  sublime ; 
sic  mythology. 
)mlsing  youths 
ccome  priests : 
lucation.  This 
cs  and  hymns. 

in  spirit ;  they 
3ved  the  chas(\ 
ize." 

have?"  asked 

an  altar  in  the 

victims." 

any  left  ?  " 
;t :  some  on  t'lo 
nd.  Tliese  are 
icy  were  about 
ly  high  in  the 
as  out  of  doors, 
:le,  where  they 
making  a  great 
T  j\  wlinie  boar 
,nd  so  baked  it" 


4b7 


"Then,  did  they  never  boil  food?"  asked  Mary  Watkins. 

"  Yes ;  they  had  clay-pots  which  they  set  in  hot  ashes,  and 
made  the  water  boil  by  dropping  in  red-hot  stones." 

"A  fine  way  to  boil  potatoes !  "  cried  Belinda  Black. 

"They  had  no  potatoes,  for  they  have  been  but  lately 
discovered  and  cultivated.  They  had  beans,  and  they  ground 
meal  in  a  quern,  such  as  our  minister  described  to  you  as  a  mill 
in  patriarchal  times.  What  a  trouble  it  was  to  strike  a  fire, 
when  there  were  no  matches,  and  flints  must  be  struck  together, 
or  sticks  rubbed  on  each  other  to  elicit  the  wonderful  spark ! 
Furnished  with  clubs  and  with  rude  knives  of  flint,  these  Celts 
killed  and  flayed  elks,  oxen,  bears  and  wolves ;  they  dug  caves 
for  store-houses  or  habitations,  cut  down  trees,  cut  up  peat  for 
fuel,  and  managed  to  scrape  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  sow 
a  little  grain.  They  dressed  skins  and  made  rude  cloth  for 
clothing;  they  made  nets,  and  in  boats  of  ox-hide  stretched 
on  a  wicker  frame  they  went  out  fishing ;  they  made  baskets 
of  osier  and  willows,  caught  birds  in  traps,  or  shot  them  with 
arrows  or  with  stones.  In  such  rude  homes  the  feeble  soon 
died,  the  strong  only  survived.  At  mid-winter  they  kept  a 
feast  in  honor  of  the  northern  gods.  They  boiled  ducks,  as  I 
told  you,  by  red-hot  stones ;  hung  the  haunches  of  elks  on  sticks 
before  the  fire;  the  women  made  cakes  by  pounding  up  grain 
and  spreading  the  wet  meal  on  stones  before  the  fire  to  dry  into 
bread.  The  fortunate  hunters  put  over  their  doorways  the  horns 
of  an  ox,  sometimes  eleven  feet  across :  these  were  their 
Ijophies.  They  made  for  their  children  bows,  clubs,  tmy  hide- 
boats,  and  knives  of  bone.  They  sang  songs  of  battle,  and  of 
the  fierce  gods  of  the  North-land.  When  wild  beasts  attacked 
them  they  fought  them  like  beasts  also,  and  the  best  'hunter  was 
the  best  man." 

"And  how  did  these  people  bury  their  dead  ?"  asked  Miriam. 

"  In  barrows  or  mounds.     With  the  dead  body  they  put  food, 
8« 


I  #i 


498 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


V    I 


weapois,  household  utensils.  Many  of  these  barrows  ycj  exist 
A  rude  people,  indeed,  yet  with  the  elements  of  grand  civil- 
ization in  them.  Many  of  the  Celtic  tongues  still  remain,  and 
some  of  their  runes  and  songs  arc  very  lofty  and  poetic.  The 
introduction  of  the  Roman  civilization,  then  of  Christianity,  the 
mingling,  first,  with  the  strong  Saxon,  then  with  the  more 
polished  Norman,  have  all  contributed  to  change  this  furious 
hunter-Celt,  of  the  beehive  hut,  into  the  gentleman  and  scholar." 
"Mrs.  Burr  showed  us  some  portfolios  of  pictures  which  she 
had  made  of  Celtic  relics:  among  these  a  hut,  a  barrow,  a 
cromlech  or  place  of  worship,  some  weapons,  knives,  a  hand- 
mill,  a  hand-made  clay-pot,  some  water-jars  and  cups ;  copies 
from  English  books,  or  from  articles  in  various  museums." 

Our  next  gathering  was  at  Mrs.  Winton's,  and  as  the  Saxons 
succeeded  the  Celts  in  the  British  Islands,  and  were  also  in  the 
line  of  our  ancestors,  we  were  to  hear  next  about  them.  Mr. 
Winton  had  been  so  much  occupied  with  his  business  that  he 
could  not  prepare  for  this  occasion,  and  it  fell  to  Mrs.  Winton 
to  give  us  our  information.     She  began  thus : 

"A  .tomb  in  an  Anglo-Saxon  cemetery  takes  us  very  tenderly 
into  the  midst  of  the  home-life  of  the  Saxons.  In  this  tomb 
lies  a  lady,  clasping  the  hand  of  her  husband,  who  rests  at  her 
right,  and  on  her  left  arm  reclines  the  body  of  a  litde  girl. 
Here  is  a  family  buried  lovingly  together.  Families  or  married 
pairs  are  often  found  thus  buried  in  Saxon  graves,  and  as  these 
people  kept  slaves,  whom  they  held  in  close  domestic  relations, 
they  often  had  their  slaves  buried  at  the  head  and  feet  of  their 
own  tombs." 

"  Please,  before  you  go  further,"  said  Sara,  "  tell  us  what  are 
our  sources  of  information  concerning  Saxon  home-life  ?" 

"They  are  four,"  said  Mrs.  Winton;  "first,  and  least,  are  the 
remains  of  a  few  ancient  Saxon  abodes ;  second,  wc  have  a  few 
old  songs  and  talcs  which  refer  to  domestic  life;  third,  we  have 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDLEVAL   HOMES. 


499 


ows  ycj:  exist 
if  grand  civil- 
il  remain,  and 
.  poetic.     The 
liristianity,  the 
■ith  the   more 
[e  this  furious 
I  and  scholar." 
ires  which  she 
,  a  barrow,  a 
cnives,  a  hand- 
1  cups;  copies 
Liseums." 
as  the  Saxons 
rere  also  in  the 
)ut  them.     Mr. 
usiness  that  he 
o  Mrs.  Winton 

s  very  tenderly 
In  this  tomb 
i\\o  rests  at  her 
of  a  little  girl, 
ilies  or  married 
23,  and  as  these 
nestic  relations, 
.nd  feet  of  their 

tell  us  what  are 
nic-life  ?" 
nd  least,  are  the 
i,  wc  have  a  few 
;  third,  we  have 


ancient  manuscripts  with  illuminations,  hand-painted  pictures, 
gensrally  the  productions  of  monkish  writers,  and  these  pictures 
represent  freely  to  us  the  dress,  homes,  furniture  and  manners 
of  the  Saxons ;  fourth,  we  have  numerous  mounds  or  barrows 
where  they  buried  their  dead,  putting  with  them  money, 
ornaments,  clothes,  weapons,  utensils ;  out  of  all  these  sources 
we  can  quite  clearly  reconstruct  the  homes  and  home-life  of  our 
Saxon  ancestors,  from  twelve  to  seven  hundred  years  a"-o." 

"  Why,"  asked  Ned  Burr,  "  are  there  so  few  remains  of  Saxon 
houses?" 

"  The  Saxons,"  replied  Mrs.  Winton,  "  were  never  a  building 
people:  they  had  little  genius  for  architecture.     We  get  that 
taste  and  capacity  from  our  Norman  blood,  and  that  witli  Jewish 
instructions,  for  Jews  were  the  first  to  build  good  dwellings  in 
Britain.     The  Saxons  laid  a  rough  foundation,  piled  up  earthen 
walls,  with  a  little  of  stone  or  reeds  intermixed,  laid  on  a  thatch 
of  reeds  and  straw,  and  the  house  was  done ;  it  was  but  one 
story  high,  and  not  all  under  one  roof     They  made  a  grand 
outer  wall  or  fortification  of  earth ;  this  had  one  entrance,  and 
at  one  end  they  reared  a  two-story  tower:  this  arrangement 
was  for  defence.     Next  they  made  a  central  room  or  hall,  with 
a  roof  having  a  hole  in  the  centre ;  under  this  hole,  on  the  earth, 
or  stone-paved  floor,  they  made  a  fire:  even  the  houses  of  early 
kings  had  no  finer  reception-room  than  this.     Around  this  hall 
were  the  sleeping-rooms  or  bowers  for  the  family.     These  were 
frequently  detached  from  each  other  and  the  hall,  had  no  fires, 
and  sometimes  no  windows ;  the  floor  was  paved  or  of  wood,  the 
roof  of  thatch.     We  read  of  wild  animals  or  of  enemies  getting 
into  these  bowers  and  carrying  off  women  or  children,  while 
armed  men  lay  in  drunken  sleep  in  the  hall :  so,  too,  often  an 
enemy  would  send  a  spy  to  scale  the  earth  wall,  and  set  fire  to 

fhPQo    nnr»r     offnt.  ff^^^-^rl    k-^-** —        'TX.-    n  r    .i  »'•  • 

jjui.i,  ..sr,,,r-rO''iva  numcs.      mc-  wuH.s  oi    tnc  wcaitnicr 

houses  were  hung  with  tapestry  made  by  the  women:  beds 


■ .  i  ti 


.i,  .V 


».,ii 


i 

! 

.,S     .; 

i 

f 

-  II 

i 

1     1 

L 

nil  jI 

500 


rz/fi   COMPLETE  HOME. 


were  wide  shelves  fastened  t.  the  wall,  with  sacks  of  straw  on 
them,  and  woollen  coverlets :  lords  and  kings  had  nothing  better. 
The  floor  had  fresh  rushes  strewn  on  it  in  place  of  a  carpet. 
Even  so  late  as  the  year  looo,  kings'  rooms  were  carpeted 
with  straw  or  rushes  strewn  over  the  stone  or  earth  floor. 
The  table  was  a  wide  plank  on  tressels,  and  when  not  in  use 
was  stood  up  against  the  wall.  From  this  fact  comes  our 
word  board,  as  'hospitab'^  board,'  for  a  dining-table.  Among 
great  people  it  was  common  to  have  the  table  always  laid  out 
with  bread,  meat  and  mead,  for  all  to  eat  as  they  chose." 

'■  Were  they  not  great  drinkers  of  ale  and  beer?  "  asked  Dick 
"  Yes,  very.     The  horns  of  oxen  and  cows  were  often  used  as 
drinking-cups,  having  figures  carved  on  them,  and  metal  rims. 
As  these  could  not  stand  up,  they  must  be  emptied  at  a  draught 
and  laid  down :   a   fine   excuse   for  greedy  drinking.     Three- 
legged  stools  were  the  common  seats  ;  but  they  had  ponderous 
chairs  with  backs  and  arms,  huge  cushions,  a  footstool,  and  a 
square  of  woven  carpet,  or  tapestry,  to  lay  under  the  feet.     The 
husband  and  wife  were  the  king  and  queen  of  the  f:\mily.     They 
had  a  great  chair  with  two  seats  in  which  they  sat  throned  at 
the  head  of  the  board,  or  by  the  fire,  while  their  children  stood 
next  them,  and  the  servants  behind  the  children;  or  the  elder 
children  sat  on  stools,  and  the  servants  stood.     So  at  the  table 
all  ate  together :  the  parents  in  their  big  chair  at  the  head ;  the 
guests  and   children   next;   the   servants  below  the  salt.     A 
guest,  a  priest  and  an  eldest  son  were  given  places  of  honor." 
"  What  fuel  did  they  use  ?  "  asked  Mary  Watkins. 
"  They  had  wood,  coal,  cinders,  peat.     For  lights  they  had 
from  their  Roman  neighbors  an  open  oil  lamp  with  a  floating 
wick,  but  used  more  frequently  candels,  very  like  our  candles. 
They  were  made  by  squeezing  a  lump  of  fat  about  a  wick,  and 

^,  .              .  .  1-  __  -  _*.•-/.  «..  oUnro  \rnn-  t1iii«!  wp  rct  tlic  word 
this  was  stuck  un  a  oirtrt,  Oi  -ji!..rj-  ,  ■  -  o 

candle-stick.     Notice  that  our  words  for  fuel,  as  coal,  cinders, 


ks  of  straw  on 
nothing  better, 
e  of  a  carpet, 
were  carpeted 
5r  earth  floor, 
ten  not  in  use 
ict  comes  our 
:able.  Among 
always  laid  out 
chose." 

?  ••  asked  Dick 
•e  often  used  as 
,nd  metal  rims, 
ed  at  a  draught 
nking.  Three- 
had  ponderous 
Dotstool,  and  a 
r  the  feet.  The 
;  C\mi\y.  They 
•  sat  throned  at 
r  children  stood 
:n;  or  the  elder 

So  at  the  table 
it  the  head ;  the 
,v  the   salt.     A 
es  of  honor." 
cins. 
lights  they  had 

with  a  floating 
;ke  our  candles, 
jout  a  wick,  and 
Iff  P-et  the  word 
as  coal,  cinders, 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDI/EVAL   HOMES. 


601 


wood,  our  words  for  common  food,  for  cooking  utensils,  for 
ordinary  furniture,  for  domestic  labors,  and  for  Oiniily  relations, 
all  come  to  us  from  our  Saxon  ancestors.  Speaking  of  fire  and 
lights,  the  Saxons,  when  they  wanted  some  .special  illumination, 
stuck  many  of  their  candels  on  a  fanciful  mctal-bcarcr  called  a 
*  candel-tre,'  and  the  first  fashion  of  our  candclabras  or  chande- 
liers. Our  word  larder,  meaning  a  pantry  for  food,  is  Norman, 
but  the  early  Saxons  had  a  word  of  the  same  meaning — '  Spic- 
hus;'  this  meant  the  house  of  their  food,  and  their  chief  article 
of  food  was  bacon,  called  by  them  ' spic'  The  Normans  called 
the  '  spic-hus '  '  lard-er '  for  the  same  reason,  because  it  kept  the 
lard :  i.  e.,  the  pork  or  bacon." 

"  What  did  they  use  for  food  besides  bacon  ?  "  asked  Belinda. 
■ "  Cheese,  honey,  mead,  milk,  butter,  ale,  also  vegetables, 
especially  beans.  Potatoes  and  peas  were  quite  unknown. 
Meat  was  roasted  on  a  spit,  or  boiled  in  a  pot  hung  over  the  fire 
on  a  crane.  Fish  they  usually  boiled;  from  this  we  get  our 
expression, '  Here's  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  ! '  The  Saxons  said 
'  cytel-fisch.'  Soup  or  broth  was  much  used.  Forks  were 
never  seen;  plates  were  uncommon;  cooks  politely  brought  in 
birds  or  bits  of  meat  fresh  from  the  fire  on  the  metal-roasting 
spits,  and  the  guests  gracefully  took  them  in  their  fingers,  and 
blew  them  until  they  were  cool.  Manners  for  which  wc  would 
banish  a  child  from  the  table  were  quite  elegant  among  these, 
our  Saxon  ancestors." 

We  all  laughed  at  this  description.     Miriam  asked : 

"  Were  they  given  to  feasting  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  had  cook-books,  regular  cooks,  and  state  dinners. 
All  the  ladies  prided  '.emselves  on  knowing  how  to  cook. 
They  were  fond  of  salt,  pepper  and  garlic,  also  of  the  sour 
juice  of  fruits  as  a  dressing.  They  baked  their  bread  in  flat- 
cakes,  marked  with  a  cross  as  an  act  of  piety.  Cups  and  mugs 
had  round  bottoms  so  that  they  would  not  stand :  hence,  our 


I 


1 1  :|  III! 


;: 


i 


502 


77//f   COMPLETE  HOME. 


word  tumblers  for  our  drinking-glasses,  which  stand  fj-mljr 
enough." 

"And  at  what  time  did  they  eat  their  meals  ?  "  asked  1  homaa 
Black. 

"  They  had  three  meals  daily  at  early  hours.  There  is  ii,  old 
Saxon  rhyme  which  ran  thus: 

"  •  To  rise  at  five,  to  dine  at  nine, 
To  sup  at  five,  to  sleep  at  nine. 
Makes  one  live  to  niuety-and-nine.'  " 

"  Horrors!  "  said  Mrs.  Black ;  "  I'm  glad  I  didn't  live  in  tKose 
days  I " 

"  Tell  us  something  more  about  their  manners,"  said  Mi,.iam. 

"  Young  babies  were  swaddled  from  head  to  toe  as  closely 
as  Indian  pappooses.  At  ten  months  old  the  swaddling  was 
relinquished,  and  they  learned  to  crawl  about.  Until  the  age 
of  five  or  six  they  tumbled  about  naked,  or  very  nearly  so. 
During  the  day  the  men  were  busy  at  their  hunting,  fishing  or 
rude  agriculture;  the  women  cooked,  spun,  wove,  sewed, 
worked  tapestry  ;  the  children  kept  in  the  house-enclosure  or  in 
their  mothers'  bowers.  In  the  evening  the  family  gathered  in 
the  hall :  the  parents  on  the  settle,  or  big  double  seat,  near  the 
fire;  the  men  cleaning  their  weapons  or  making  bows  and 
arrows;  the  guest,  or  the  family-harper,  or  some  wandering 
mimic-singer,  had  a  chair,  and  sang  ballads,  and  told  stories, 
and  all  the  news  he  had  picked  up  in  his  travels.  Often  the 
priest,  or  a  monk  finding  the  home  more  attractive  than  his 
cell,  had  also  his  seat  by  the  hearth,  and  made  all  eyes  and 
mouths  open  with  wonder  as  he  told  legends  of  the  saints,  or 
described  his  journeys  through  England,  his  life  in  some 
monastic  school,  or,  more  wonderful  still,  what  he  had  seen  at 
Rome,  or  even  at  Holy  Sepulchre  among  the  Infidels." 

"  What  about  their  education  ?  "  asked  Hester. 

■  They  most  of  them  after  Alfred's  day  learned  to  read  and 


stand  fjrnly 
asked  1  homas 
rhere  is  &i  old 


I't  live  is  tKose 

'  said  Mi,.iam. 
toe  as  closely 
swaddling  was 

Until  the  age 
ery  nearly  so. 
:ing,  fishing  or 

wove,  sewed, 
enclosure  or  in 
ily  gathered  in 
;  seat,  near  the 
ing  bows  and 
me  wandering 
d  told  stories, 
;ls.  Often  the 
ctive  than  his 
i  all  eyes  and 
■  the  saints,  or 

life  in  some 
le  had  seen  at 
dels." 

d  to  read  and 


ANCIENT  AND   MEDIEVAL  HOMES. 


503 


wnte;  also  arithmetic  and  Latin.     But  these  accomplishments 
were  more  usual  for  girls  than  for  boys,  for  the  boys  were  zeal- 
ous  in  hunting,  fishing  and  fighting,  unless  they  meant  to  be 
priests.     A  lad  was  especially  taught  carving.     Queen   Edith 
was  wont  to  meet  the  children  returning  from  school,  question 
them  on  logic  and  grammar,  and  give  money  to  the  best  schol- 
ars.    Their  books  were  written  on  parchment,  and  illustrated 
with  paintings.     Clerks  prepared  many  of  these  at  a  great  price. 
Some  families  kept  a  clerk  to  collect  and  write  out  a  library  for 
them.     Books  were  often  bound  in  velvet  and  gems." 
"What  amusements  did  they  have?"  asked  Sara. 
"They  were  very  fond  of  music,  poetry-making  and  singing; 
they  cultivated  fruit  and  flower-gardens  with  enthusiasm.     Em' 
broidery  was  a  passion  with  the  dames;   chess,  backgammon 
and  dice  were  also  very  common." 

"I  have  heard  much  of  their  hospitality,"  said  Miriam. 

"Yes.     They  went  out  to  meet  and  welcome  a  guest;   sent 

him  to  the  bath-room  ;  gave  him  a  chief  seat  at  table;  stood  by, 

and  waited  on  him  as  he  ate.     Ladies  thought  it  the  very  cream 

of  good  manners  to    stand    and  wait  on  a  guest.     They  had 

books  and  songs  on  courtesy  and  good  manners,  and  we  find 

that  a  thousand  years  ago  Saxons  taught  their  children  not  to 

enter  a  room  without  knocking,  not  to  repeat  what  they  had 

heard  or  seen  in  a  neighbor's  house;  and  to  keep  their  hands  and 

finger-nails   clean.     A  tavern   in   those    days  was  a  road-side 

drinking-place,  where  decent  people  were  loath  to  lodge— all 

houses  were  open  to  the  traveller.     Bcde,  a  venerable  and  holy 

monk,  gives  these  rules  as  to  hospitality:  '  First,  wash  the  hands 

and  feet  of  your  guest;  second,  feed  him;  third,  lodge  him; 

fourth,  after  two  days  and  two  nights  of  free  hospitality,  inquire' 

his  name,  his  intentions  and  his  antecedents,  for  after  this  y/>u 

are  responsible  for  his  doings  if  he  remains  your  guest. ' " 

"  What  was  the  domestic  character  of  Saxon  women?"  asked 
Cousin  Ann, 


■.}!' 


\',\ 


'1  < 

i   i 


it 


ii 


504 


r//£   COMPLETE  HOME. 


"  They  were  devoted  mothers,  very  sharp  mistresses  often,  at. 
their  slaves  were  so  completely  in  their  power.  In  their  married 
relations  they  were  often  unamiable,  for  marriage  was  usually  a 
matter  of  barter  and  treaty  between  parents,  the  young  people 
having  no  voice  in  the  matter.  They  thus  frequently  found 
sach  other  uncongenial,  and  divorce  was  very  common.  Men 
even  traded  wives,  and  women  allowed  themselves  to  be  bartered 
away,  hoping  for  better  fortunes.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church 
has  always  been  very  creditably  arrayed  against  divorce,  and 
it  used  its  whole  power  to  maintain  the  marriage  tie  among 
Saxon  Catholics,  but  for  some  two  hundre*  years  with  but  little 
effect." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Burr,  "  the  Saxon  homj  was  a  con- 
stantly improving  home  in  its  furniture,  manners  and  customs, 
as  Saxons  were  a  studious  people,  and  were  more  and  more 
thrown  into  contact  with  other  and  more  refined  nations." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Winton,  "the  wild  Saxons  who  invaded 
England  after  the  Romans  departed  were  moulded  by  the  end 
of  Alfred's  reign  into  a  single  strong  nation,  with  schools, 
churches,  and  agriculture,  sotne  manufactures,  and  with  com- 
fortable homes;  the  kingdom  had  become  a  prize  worthy  of  the 
desire  of  William  the  Norman." 

"  The  entrance  of  William  and  his  Normans  to  England," 
Sriid  Doctor  Nugent,  "  brings  us  to  another  period  in  our  history 
of  home-life.  I  see  on  Aunt  Sophronia's  face  a  serene  smile, 
that  betokens  her  self-gratulation  at  having  escaped  giving  us  a 
disquisition  ;  Aunt  Sophronia  rejoices  too  soon.  Day  after  to- 
morrow evening  we  propose  all  to  be  at  her  house  to  listen  to  a 
description  of  English  homes  after  the  Norman  Conquest." 

Every  one  laughed,  and  I  said,  with  truth,  that  I  wished 
that  they  had  chosen  some  one  who  knew  more  about  the 
subject. 

"These  talks  on  old-time  homes,"  said  John  Rochcford,  "are 


i 


sscs  often,  at. 
their  married 
was  usually  a 
y^oung  people 
[ucntly  found 
mmon.  Men 
to  be  bartered 
tholic  Church 
divorce,  and 
je  tie  among 
with  but  little 

J  was  a  con- 
and  customs, 
)re  and  more 
ations." 
who  invaded 
id  by  the  end 
with  schools, 
"•d  with  corn- 
worthy  of  the 

to  England," 
in  our  history 
serene  smile, 
:d  giving  us  a 
Day  after  to- 
;  to  listen  to  a 
onquest." 
hat  I  wished 
)re  about  the 

)cheford,  "  are 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDIEVAL   HOMES. 


606 


not  meant  to  be  exhaustive  or  learned  lectures :  they  are  merely 
to  give  us  some  ideas  of  the  progress  of  domestic  life,  of  the 
gradual  introduction  of  our  present  conveniences  of  furniture, 
dress  and  refinement.  What  are  now  the  ordinarj-  comforts  of 
our  poorest  homes  were  once  luxuries  to  kings;  among  the 
Saxons,  up  to  the  Conquest,  a  pillow  was  a  comfort  bestowed 
only  on  sick  women,  and  a  man  who  could  five  years  after  his 
marriage  buy  a  flock-bed  and  a  pair  of  heavy  blanket,  or  wool 
quilts  thought  him  cif  we  I  off  The  poor  ate  their  common 
food  of  porridge  an  1  raiik,  or  .oup,  from  a  little  wooden  trough, 
called  a  trencher;  ihrc.  horn-  .poons  and  one  huge  knife  was  a 
fine  outfit  of  tablewa:  -  v  hiie  glass  in  a  window  and  a  decent 
chimney  were  unknown." 

"I'm  glad,"  said  Mrs.  Black,  "that  I  was  not  born  in  'good 
old  times ! ' " 

When  my  guests  on  Thursday  evening  were  ready  to  hear  the 
few  and  simple  observations  which  I  had  prepared  on  Norman 
homes,  I  began : 

"I  find  my  subject  naturally  following,  and  well  introduced  by 
Mrs.  Winton's  talk.     The  Normans  were  in  possession  of  greater 
luxuries,  though  not  at  all  what  we  would  call  splendor.    They 
built  houses  of  two  stories,  and  made  use  of  the  round  arch  for 
doors  and  windows.     The  Normans  were  fond  of  revelry  and 
had  elaborate  kitchens;  they  kept  family  butlers  and  bakers, and 
notice  that  many  of  our  present  surnames  come  from  those  who 
originally  held  these  positions,  or  wrought  in  certain  trades,  as: 
Butler,  Baker,  Stewart  (from  house-stewart),  Spencer  (/.  e.,  house- 
keeper or  dispenser  oi^xoy\s\oxv%  and  funds),  Smith,  and  so  forth. 
The  Normans  used  many  kinds  of  meat  and  gave  it  the  French 
names,  held  by  us  to-day,  as  pork   for  pig-meat,  veal   for  calf, 
6eef  for  cow  or  ox-meat— all  these  names  being   Norman  or 
French  in  origin,  the  spelling  being  .-Jtered.     Thev  also  used 
many  birds  and  fowls,  especially  geese,  of  which  they  kept  large 


506 


THE   COMPi^ETB  HOME. 


flocks  under  care  of  goosc-hcrds.  The  table  furniture  was  more 
gorgeous  in  kind  though  not  great  in  variety ;  more  platters  of 
metal  were  used,  but  no  forks,  and  almost  no  plates;  drinking- 
cups  and  flagons  wore  of  gold,  silver  and  pewter.  ICvery  table 
had  a  supply  of  napkins,  and  basins  for  washing  the  hands,  as 
people  so  liberally  used  their  fingers  for  eating. 

"As  to  sleeping,  many  people  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes 
occupied  the  same  room,  a  custom  which  now  excites  our  indig- 
nation in  tenant  houses,  and  in  the  present  mean  huts  of  many 
English  laborers.    The  entire  lack  of  glass  in  windows,  the  poor 
fit  of  doors  and  shutters,  and  the  general  loose  build  of  the 
houses,  insured  ventilation,  and  with  the  hearty  out-of-door  life 
of  every  day  probably  was  the  means  of  saving  the  entire  Saxo- 
Norman  race  from  dying  of  scrofula,  which  is  pre-eminently  a 
disease  of  close  apartments  and  foul  air.    The  servants  and  com- 
mon people  lay  in  their  ordinary  day-clothes  on  the  flour  of  llm 
hall  or  chief  room.     Visitors  were  freely  received  in  tho  bed- 
rooms, and,  as  chairs  were  few,  they  frequently  sat  on  the  bed, 
and  so,  perched  like  a  set  of  school-girls  in  a  frolic,  they  had 
collations  served  them.     The  children  were  sent  to  school,  and 
the  girls  were  quite  well  taught.    Wandering  minstrels,  jugglers, 
mountebanks  and  story-tellers  went  up  and  down  the  country, 
and  paid  for  their  entertainment  at  houses  by  performing  their 
music  or  tricks.     Singing  often  accompanied  the   meals.     An 
ancient  book  has  the  story  of  Herod  and  John   l^aplist,  and 
shows  Salome,  the  daughter  of  Herodias,  standing  on  her  heail 
before   Herod,  at  which   performance  king  and  courtiers  look 
highly  edified,      .'he  Normans  presently  added  to  the  house  a 
guest  or  reception-room,  called  a  pcxrhnr  or  talking-i)lacc,  from 
which  we  derive  our  parlor. 

Musical  instruments  were  owned;  a  picture  in  an  antique 
book  shows  two  men  playing  together  on  an  organ,  and  a  man 
or     ach  side  blowing;  they  are  in  contortions  of  eflort  but  seem 


liturc  was  more 
lore  platters  of 
ites;  (hinking- 
;•.  I'A'cry  table 
:  the  hands,  as 

nd  both  sexes 
:ites  our  indig- 
i  huts  of  many 
dows,  the  poor 
Li  build  of  the 
3ut-Qf-door  life 
le  entire  Saxo- 
re-eniinently  a 
'ants  and  com- 
Iie  floor  of  the 
d  in  the  bed' 
Lt  on  the  bed, 
rolic,  they  had 
to  school,  and 
trcls,  jugglers, 
11  the  country, 
rforniing  their 
e  meals.  An 
I  Ihptist,  and 
r  on  her  head 
:ourtiers  hmk 
>  the  house  a 
ig-place,  from 

in  an  antique 
in,  and  a  man 
Tort,  but  seem 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDIEVAL   HOMES.  gQ? 

unable  to  furnish  wind  enough  to  the  instrument,  and  one  player 
has  stopped  to  shake  his  fist  at  them.     The  Normans  were  great 
gamblers,  and  gambled  with  the  game  of  chess,  a  game  invented 
m  the  far  East  and  brought  by  Byzantine  Greeks  from  the  Sara- 
cens.    Its  earliest  mention  is  in  1067,  in  a  letter  written  by  the 
Cardmal  Bishop  of  Ostia  to  Tope  Alexander  Second,  and  in  this 
he  complains  that  the  Bishop  of  Florence  n'ays  chess,  because 
the  law  only  forbids  priests  to  play  dice.     In  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury cards  began  to  be   used,  and  at  this  time  masques  and 
mountebanks  in  private  houses   began  to  go  out  of  fashion 
Two  favorite  pieces  of  furniture  were  a  treasure-chest  for  valu- 
ables, called  a  huchc,  and  a  frame  for  hanging  clothes,  called  a 
pcrchc.     The  huche  was  heavy,  large,  carved,  placed  at  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  and  used  as  a  divan  or  seat.     It  was  the  forerunner 
of  the  sofa  and  the  linen-chest.     The  pcrche,  at  first  a  mere  bar 
w.th  pegs  in  it,  was  the  predecessor  of  our  hat-rack  and  ward- 
robe.    Certain  luxuries  of  life,  which  we  regard  as  modern,  are 
found  depicted  in  the  illuminated  books  of  the  tenth,  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries,  as  gloves,  ca/riages,  and  side-saddles. 
Copies  of  old  pictures  containing  these  are  to  be  found  in  an 
English  work  by  the  antiquarian,  Thomas  Wright,  '  Momes  o^ 
Other  Days.'     Our  camp-chair  has  its  exact  counterpart  in  a 
picture  in  a  French  romance  of  1450;  and  our  fine  chandelier 
was  called  by  the  Normans  a  candlc-bcam,  being  three  or  four 
crossed  pieces  of  wood  hanging  from  the  ceiling  by  a  chain,  and 
liaving  iron  points  whereon  to  stick  candles. 

"  In  Norman  times  ladies  began  to  practise  painting,  medi- 
cine and  nursing  as  a  business,  but,  unhappily,  about  the  year 
1500,  we  find  that  the  formerly  discreet  wives  of  England 
arc  accused  of  going  to  taverns  and  pot-houses,  and  pictures 
represent  them  sitting  on  benches  with  their  gossips  drinking 
ale  in  public  places.  So  unfortunately,  at  present,  women,  evrn 
with  babes  in  arms,  may  be  seen  hanging  about  saloons  and 


i 


P'i 


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riii:.: 


i 


gin-palaces.  Some  of  these  pictures  show  the  husbands  coming 
to  orJcr  their  wives  home,  and  these  muscular  dames  square-off 
and  maintain  a  pitched  battle  for  their  rights." 

"  Neither  better  nor  worse  than  some  viragoes  now,"  said 
Dick,  laughing. 

"  Human  nature  develops  itself  about  on  the  same  line  in  all 
ag;.'s  and  countries,  if  left  to  itself,"  remarked  our  minister. 

'"And  that  was  a  peculiarly  rough  age,"  said  Doctor  Nugent. 
"  1  he  kingdom  was  torn  with  quarrels  between  the  nobles ;  the 
chi  rch  was  arrayed  against  the  laity ;  the  colleges  were  centres 
of  uiobs.  A  religion  and  an  education  for  the  commons,  and  a 
rec(  gnition  of  individual  rights  and  human  dignity  were  needed 
to  sjbdue  and  civilize  people." 

"At  this  time,"  I  continued,  "  a  son  at  fifteen  generally  chose 
for  himself  his  line  of  life,  as  war,  the  priesthood,  the  college,  or 
agricultur.',  and  his  father  furnished  him  for  it  as  well  as  he 
could.  Daughters  were  married  with  respect  to  their  dowry, 
and  matches  were  made  usually  by  the  parents,  with  reference 
to  neighborly  or  pecuniary  convenience.  We  catch  glimpses  in 
song,  story  and  picture  of  the  love  of  home,  of  husband  and 
wife,  of  parent  and  child,  and  we  have  stray  views  of  little 
English  children  playing  with  toy-whips,  swords,  dolls,  hobby- 
horses, tops,  balls,  and  all  the  playthings  of  modern  childhood. 
Clothes  were  made  in  nearly  the  .same  fashion  for  young  and 
old,  and  boys  and  girls  looked  like  elderly  people  cut  short. 
Home-spun,  or  linsey-woolsey,  made  to  last  a  lifetime,  was  worn 
by  all ;  buckram  and  leather  were  used  in  breeches  and  jerki.is. 
Stockiii.  were  yarn  knit,  and  shoes  for  the  poor  were  often  of 
wood,  or  of  undressed  hide.  Fur  and  feathers  were  a  fivorite 
trimming,  and  velvet  and  silk  were  imported,  decked  with  lace 
and  pearls  for  holiday  and  high  occasions.  But  then  fashions 
did  not  change,  and  the  best  gown  passed  from  mother  io  chiUl 
and  grandchild,  and  the  father's  state  coat  was  Iianded  to  the 
third  and  fourth,  generation." 


i  * 


sbands  coming 
mes  square-off 

)es  now,"  said 

same  line  in  all 
minister. 
)octor  Nugent, 
lie  nobles ;  the 
:s  were  centres 
ammons,  and  a 
y  were  needed 

generally  chose 
the  college,  or 
as  well  as  he 
3  their  dowry, 
with  reference 
:ch  glimpses  in 
husband  and 
views  of  little 
>,  dolls,  hobby- 
lern  childhood, 
for  young  and 
iplc  cut  short. 
:imc,  was  worn 
cs  and  jcrki.is, 
r  were  often  of 
ivcre  a  favorite 
eked  with  lace 
;  then  fashions 
iiother  lo  child 
handed  to  the 


ANCIENT   AND   Mill) 1 .1.1  A  I.    HOMES. 


609 


*'What,"  asked  Miriam.,  "was  the  increase  in  furniture?" 

"As  wealth  and  trades  multiplied,  and  crusaders  and  ncr 
chants  returned  from  the  luxurious  East,  furnishing  becanu- 
more  elaborate  and  varied.  The  Saxons  had  bellows,  toners 
poker  and  fire-shovel ;  the  Normans  added  andirono  and  fire- 
screens of  elegant  designs ;  chairs  were  constructed  of  lighter 
and  more  comfortable  proportions ;  the  table  had  its  solid  top 
and  its  own  legs,  and  was  no  more  a  board  on  tressels ;  lanterns 
were  arranged  for  dark  nights,  and  Sedan  chairs  and  coaches  for 
riding;  window-curtains,  and  squares  of  carpet,  and  rugs  wer'j 
introduced;  the  pcrchc  became  a  wardrobe  and  a  hat-rack; 
hassocks,  stools  and  sofas  filled  the  rooms  ;  pictures  decked  the 
walls,  and  books  were  more  common ;  printing  opened  lo  all 
men  the  possib'Hty  of  a  library;  the  tables  rejoiced  in  cups, 
plates,  forks  and  spoons.  The  Saxons  and  Normans  became 
one  people;  then  the  English  liberties  were  established;  the 
Wars  of  the  Roses  ended  ;  the  Homes  of  England  bloomed  in 
the  coarse  magnificence  of  Tudor  times,  and  then  in  the  French 
elegance  of  the  Stuart  reigns,  and  the  quaint,  grotesque  elabo- 
rations of  Queen  Ann,  alter  whose  furniture,  and  pottery,  and 
jewelry  we  are  now  again  going  mad.  It  is  worthy  of  remark 
that  now  in  our  humblest  homes  we  have  the  comforts  and  little 
conveniences  which  it  has  taken  ages  to  perfect." 

"And,"  observed  John  Rocheford,  "  we  might  remember  that 
people  lived,  and  throve,  and  were  happy,  without  what  we  call 
the  necessaries  of  existence,  without  carpets,  curtains,  bureaus 
and  toilette  tables,  arm-chairs  and  book-cases." 

"  Let  us,"  remarked  Mr.  Winton,  "  not  forget  the  ancestry  of 
our  domestic  conveniences:  our  book-case  was  once  the  little 
carved  Roman  roll-chest;  our  wardrobe  a  peg  on  a  beam;  our 
chandelier  a  lump  of  tallow  stuck  on  a  stick ;  our  sofa  a  money 
clic.'it ;  our  chair  a  ' fitid  sioi  \ '  our  bed  a  .iliclf  in  the  wail ;  out 
carpet  an  armful  of  straw ;  our  oven  a  hole  in  the  ground ;  our 


LU 


510 


T//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


goblet  a  polished  cow's  horn;  our  plate  a  rough  wooden 
trencher,  a  kind  of  chicken-trough." 

"  Well,"  said  Doctor  Nugent,  "  to-day,  in  our  western  out- 
posts, people,  brave  enough  to  be  emigrants  and  pioneers  of 
civilization,  arc  building  up  states,  living  just  as  rudely  as  this 
until  rompctcnce  and  the  railroad  overtake  them  ;  and  they  are 
making  the  best  parts  of  our  country.  NeiUicr  are  they  coarse 
nor  unhappy  because  of  these  rough-and-ready  surroundings. 
I  have  dined  with  a  thorough  gentleman  with  blocks  of  wood  for 
seats,  pine-bark  for  plates,  and  our  pocket-knives  to  cut  our 
meat,  and  relished  the  dinner  too." 

A  very  aged  lady  had  accompanied  Mrs.  Burr  to  all  these 
gatherings,  seeming  to  enjoy  them  highly.  She  spoke  for  the 
first  time : 

"  When  I  was  a  child  I  lived  five  years  in  an  Indian  wig- 
wam." 

"  Oh,  tell  us  about  it,  pray  do  !  "  cried  all  the  young  people, 

eagerly. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell,"  said  the  old  1  "y,  simply.  "  They 
stole  me  and  I  stayed  until  I  was  discovr.ed  and  taken  back. 
It  was  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie.  The  wigwam  was  made  of 
poles  stuck  in  the  ground  and  tied  with  bark-bar.ds  at  the  top. 
In  winter  it  was  hung  with  skins.  Skins  and  cedar  branches  lay 
on  the  door  to  sit  and  sleep  upon.  In  .summer  the  wigwam 
was  covered  with  bark  and  branches.  The  description  given  of 
Celt  life  reminded  me  of  our  Indian  life.  The  wigwam  some- 
times had  a  curtain  across  the  middle,  making  tvvo  apartments. 
During  the  day  the  front  flap  was  folded  back ;  the  fire  was  out- 
side on  the  ground.  When  we  moved  camp  the  women  struck 
the  wigwams,  loaded  the  little  horses  with  poles,  curtains,  big 
kettles,  baskets  and  pappooscs,  and  away  ,  rt.  All  the 
work  was  done  by  the  women  :  tiiey  set  up  >•  -;  ams,  collected 
fuel,  dressed  skins,  made  clothes,  poun  led  fruit  into  a  kind  of 


f 


»ugh  wooden 

western  out- 
d  pioneers  of 
rudely  as  this 

and  they  are 
■e  they  coarse 
surroundings. 
:s  of  wood  for 
2S  to  cut  our 

:  to  all  these 
spoke  for  the 

1  Indian  wig- 
young  people, 

nply.  "  They 
d  taken  back. 
I  was  made  of 
lids  at  the  top. 
r  branches  lay 
-  the  wigwam 
ption  given  of 
'igwam  some- 
vo  apartments, 
e  fire  was  out- 
women  struck 
,  curtains,  big 
rt.  All  the 
ams,  collected 
into  a  kind  of 


f 


ANCIENT  AND  MEDIAEVAL  HOMES. 


511 


Beer,  dried  or  jerked  meat  and  fish,  pounded  corn  into  coarse 
meal;  were  slaves,  in  fact,  toiling  with  no  tliaiiks  from  morning 
to  night.  The  men  and  boys  hunted,  fished,  fought,  danced, 
got  drunk,  made  bows  and  arrows,  and  slept  half  the  day  when 
they  felt  like  it.  It  was  no  life  of  Arcadia,  in  spite  of  the  poetry 
books.  The  summers  were  all  heat,  mosquitoes,  hard  work ; 
the  winters  were  successions  of  cold,  sickness,  sore  hands  and 
feet,  and  often  of  failing  provisions  and  long-continued  hunger. 
Yet  I  have  heard  of  boys  mad  to  go  out  West  and  live  with  the 
Indians,  and  of  young  women  who  longed  to  marry  an  Indian 
chief  or  brave.  All  I  can  say  is  they  never  tried  it,  or  the>- 
would  not  talk  such  folly." 

"  VVc  might  continue  our  Home  Talks  indefiniLcly,"  said  Mr. 
Burr.  "We  could  discuss  the  Homes  of  Egypt  and  Chaldea. 
the  Homes  of  Central  Africa,  the  Home  of  the  Puritan,  the 
Western  settler,  the  Home  of  revolutionary  days.  Each  varietA- 
would  present  its  likeness  to  other  varieties  and  its  own  distinct 
features  But  in  all  diversities  we  should  find  this  fixed  fact, 
that  the  Home  is  the  centre  of  man's  thoughts,  the  source  of 
his  comfort,  the  mould  of  his  habits.  The  cradle  of  the  child  is 
the  cradle  of  nations  and  of  the  church.  The  parents  and  the 
children  abiding  together,  whether  their  possessions  be  few  or 
many,  make  a  Home,  and  how  poor  soever  in  property,  this 
Home  by  faith  and  love  can  be  a  pattern  of  Heaven— a  paradise 
on  earth." 


i  m, 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


THE    MODLL.    HOME. 
AUOT  S0P!IRONIA's   IDI  A  OF  A   li  JME    !N   ITS   BEJiT   ESTATS. 

•M;:.OING  one  afternoon  to  call  on  Hester,  I  found  her  sitting 
^'iit     '-'  ^''^^'  ^'^^^'  ^'"d'^w  of  the  parlor  reading  Plato. 


ef^S 


'  Still  the  favorite  book,  Hester  ?  "  I  said. 
fa-  She  iiid  it  in  her  lap  with  a  snile;  then  replied: 
"Tlie  favorite  book,  and  the  favorite  passage.  Listen,  here  is 
something  which  you  will  like,  Aunt  Soplu  mia. 

"  Socrates  is  told  that  m'an  cannot  find  his  iJ eal.     He  replies : 

"  'Aye,  he  will— in  the  city  which  is  his  own,  though  in  his 

native  country  perhaps  not,  unless  some  providential  accident 

should  occur.' 

"  '  I  understand :  you  speak  of  that  city  of  which  we  are  the 
founders,  and  which  exists  in  idea  only :  for  I  do  not  think 
there  is  such  an  one  anywhere  on  earth." 

"  '  In  heaven,'  I  replied, '  there  is  laid  up  a  pattern  of  such  a 
c;ty.  and  he  who  desires  may  behold  this,  and  beholding  may 
-overn  himself  accordingly.  But  whether  there  really  is,  or 
ov.-r  will  be,  such  an  one  on  earth,  is  of  less  importance  to  him ; 
t,>r  he  will  act  according  to  the  laws  of  that  city,  and  of  no 

olhcr.' 

'<  Is  not  that  beautiful,  aunt?"  said  Hester,  as  she  closed  the 
book.  "  It  .seems  as  if  the  gray  old  heathen  must  have  caught 
some  revelation  of  the  glorious  city,  the  Nc  rusalem,  whose 
maker  anH  builder  is  God." 

"As  hr        elops  his  city  in  its  mm  t'        "  said,  "  it  partakef 


r   ESTATE 

id  her  sitting 
ato. 

hen  replied: 
isten,  here  is 

He  replies : 
liough  in  his 
itial  accident 

h  we  are  the 
do  not  think 

em  of  such  a 
^holding  may 
really  is,  or 
tance  to  him ; 
ty,  and  of  no 

she  closed  the 
t  have  caught 
jsalem,  whose 

J,  "  it  partakes 


THE  MODEL  HOME. 


513 


of  the  twilight  of  the  heathen  mind.  But  when  it  dawns  on  him 
as  a  whole,  one  would  think  he  had  been  given  a  glimpse  into 
the  world  of  perfect  models:  the  world  which  holds  for  us  the 
ideal  beauty;  the  ideal  city;  the  ideal  existence;  the  ideal 
character ;  the  ideal  home." 

"  Let  us  fancy,"  said  Hester,  looking  across  the  lovely  land- 
scape  which  lay  beyond  her  window,  "that  all  that  is  really 
good  here,  inasmuch  as  it  is  good,  partakes  of  the  character  of 
God,  is  in  harmony  with  him ;  it  is,  therefore,  a  straight  line,  for 
he  never  deviates,  deflects,  nor  has  the  shadow  of  a  turning. 
It  is  also  infinitely  extended— eternized ;  therefore,  being ''a 
straight  and  infinitely  extended  line,  it  is  not  bounded  by  our 
mortal  limits,  but  is  projected  into  the  future  world,  indefinitely 
to  develop  itself  in  a  growing  likeness  to  the  mind  of  its  Maker. 
Of  these  things  may  be  the  home,  designed,  established,  con- 
tinued  and  finished  in  him.  What  then  might  be  the  infinite 
possibilities  .  f  the  Home,  the  nursing  place  of  immortality, 
immortal  in  iteelf !  " 

•  "  You  lead  me  too  far,"  I  said  ;  "  as  the  poet  cries,  '  to  fields 
beyond  our  ken."  Who  is  it  that  says  :  '  There  are  plenty  who 
indicate  to  us  the  road  to  the  skies,  but  this  man  taught  us  a 
way  through  this  lower  world '  ?  " 

"  That  is  Sauvestr6  speaking  of  Onck  Maurice,  and  Sauvestr6 
has  a  very  pretty  paragraph  on  the  Home.  Let  me  read  it  to 
you." 

She  took  a  book  from  the  table,  and  read :  "  Never  before 

had  I  so  comprehended  the  ineffable  attraction  of  the  family. 

What  sweetness  in  these  always  shared  joys,  in  this  community 

of  interests  which  confounds  sensations,  in  this  association  of 

existences,  which  out  of  many  beings  forms  one  single  being ! 

What,  indeed,  is  man  without  these  affections  of  the  'hearth- 

sfo.ne,  which,  as  so  many  roots,  fix  him  solidly  in  the  earth  and 

permit  him  to  drink  in  all  the  juices  of  life?     Strength,  happif 
33 


.  it. 


5H 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


ness— do  not  they  all  come  from  thence  ?  Without  the  family, 
where  shall  man  learn  love,  mutual  aid  and  self-sacrifi  e? 
Society  in  miniature,  is  it  not  the  Home  which  teaches  us  how 
to  live  in  the  world  at  large?  Such  is  the  sanctity  of  the 
hearth-stone,  that,  in  order  to  express  our  relationships  with 
God,  we  have  borrowed  words  invented  for  the  family.  Men 
have  called  themselves  the  children  of  the  Supreme  Father." 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "here  is  not  only  God's  ideal  of  human  life, 
but  it  is  the  foundation  of  society,  of  the  state.  This  is  our 
inviolate  ark,  and  who  would  injure  or  destroy  that  would 
dcs'jroy  human  bonds  and  national  strength.  Let  us  exalt  th? 
sphere  of  Home." 

"Since   you  will    not   devote   your  time,"  said  Hester,  "to 
fancies  of  what  the  Home  might  be  in  the  land  that  lies  very  far 
off,  will  you  give  a  little  time  to  explicating  your  view  of  a 
Model  Home  in  this  world  ?     In  fact,  I  have  a  request  to  prefer 
to  you,  and  I  would  have  visited  you  for  that  purpose  to-day,  if 
you  had  not  come  here.     Grace  Winton  is  to  be  married  to  Dr. 
'Nugent's  brother.     They  mean  to  live  here  in  our  little  town, 
and  to  build  a  house  for  themselves.     You  planned  and  super- 
intended your  house  building,  and  every  one  likes  it.     Grace 
wants  you  to  draw  up  for  her  your  views  of  a  Model  Home. 
You  can  give  your  ideas  of  externals  and  internal .3.     Depict  it 
as  it  had  better  be  when  people  are  able  to  choose  a  site,  and 
set  up  the  home  without  being  ham.pcred  by  necessity  of  saving, 
and  yet  do  not  intend  to  live  in  a  style  of  extravagance." 

"  But,  Hester,"  I  remonstrated,  "  such  a  work  would  require 
folios!     It  would  take  a  lifetime  to  depict  a  Model  Home." 

"  Condense  it,  aunt :  merely  suggest  the  topics  to  be  studied, 
and  hint  at  what  is  needful.     A  word  to  the  wise  suffices." 

"  But  in  many  conversations  at  various  times,  with  all  of  you 
young  people,  I  think  I  have  fairly  unfolded  my  views  of 
home,  aad  home-life." 


\   ' 


.it  the  family, 
self-sacrifi  e  ? 
aches  us  how 
ictity  of  the 
ionships  with 
family.  Men 
I  Father." 
)f  human  life, 
This  is  our 
/  that  would 
:  us  exalt  the 

1  Hester,  "to 
it  lies  very  far 
ur  view  of  a 
^uest  to  prefer 
)osc  to-day,  if 
Harried  to  Dr. 
ur  little  town, 
ed  and  super- 
:es  it.      Grace 

Model  Home. 
aii.  Depict  it 
lose  a  site,  and 
ssity  of  saving, 
gance." 

would  require 
I  Home." 
;  to  be  studied, 
suffices." 
with  all  of  you 

mv  views  of 


THE  MODEL  HOM^,  -j- 

"iLct  this  paper  then  be  an  epitome  of  what  you  have  said  to 
us.  Indeed,  aunt,  we  are  bound  among  ourselves  to  give  you 
no  peace  until  you  gratify  us,  and  then  we  intend  to  take  the 
paper,  have  it  printed,  and  aj  hundred  copies  bound  to  suit  our 
fancy,  and  distributed  among  ourselves,  as  a  memento  of  our 
many  pleasant  conversations  on  home  affairs.  Therefore  be- 
come an  author  in  little  in  spite  of  yourself" 

With  much  fear  and  anxiety  I  addressed  myself  to  my  diaries, 
repositories  of  the  thoughts  of  years,  endeavoring  to  collate' 
certain  views  of  the  chief  things  which  belong  to  a  liome.     And 
as  the  beginning  of  the  home  is  in  marriage,  and  marriage  is  an 
institution  now  often  both  openly  and  insidiously  attacked  by 
the  children  of  riot  and  unrighteousness,  I  was  about  to  open 
my  :,ubjcct  with  some  words  of  my  own  on  that  topic,  when  I 
found  these  remarks  of  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  offered  at  a 
nuptial  celebration,  and  them  I  transcribed:   "The  whole  of 
human  civilization  has   its  rise,  its  origin,  in  marriage:  th,.t 
which   most  distinguishes   civilization   from   barbarism   is   the 
sacredness   of  the   marriage   tie   and   its   indissolubility.     The 
more  sacred  marriage  is  held  by  any  people,  the  more  certainly 
that  people  rises  to  a  high  condition  of  civilization.     The  mar- 
ried home  is  the  type  and  the  source  of  civil  society.     The 
home,  the  family,  is  the  unit  of  civilized  life.     The  home  is  also 
the  type  and  the  unit  of  the  Christian  church :  only  from  the 
basis  of  the  Christian  family  can  we  understand  that  great  truth 
of  the  fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  Christian 
man.     No  one  can  tell  what  the  future  may  be  passing  into  llw 
generations  of  a   Christian  household.     Think  for  a  momci«' 
what  was  the  future  of  that  home  when  Abraham  married  Sarah 
He  knew  not  then  what  it  would  be,  that  in  him  should  all  tho 
families  of  the  earth  be  blessed;  yet  all  that  sprang  from  that 
pne  holy  marriao'e  " 

iVn(i  n.  w,  my  young  friends,  I  trust  that  you  hold  these  slmpl 


:.-'4 


616 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


and  sacred  vi=:w3  of  man  age,  and  I  behold  you  newly  wedded, 
standing  ..nx  the  t:iieshold  of  your  future  life.  I  would  hava 
scarcely  known  of  what  next  to  speak  to  you,  but  looking  in 
this  spring  day  from  my  window,  a  pair  of  newly  mated  robins 
and  a  i-air  of  blue  birds  brought  me  counsel;  they  were  nest- 
building!    The   robins   were   : a  new  home  from  the 

foundation.  The  blue  birds  had  found  a  nest  of  some  other 
year  and  were  refitting  it.  I  observed  that  they  who  built  and 
they  who  repaired  proceeded  on  the  same  general  principles, 
and  that  the  homes  when  ready  for  occupancy  were  nearly  alike. 
This  is  a  copy  of  human  affairs,  for  some  young  couples  build 
houses  for  themselves  and  others  do  the  best  they  can  with 
houses  already  built,  but  for  both  there  are  certain  general 
sanitary  and  aesthetic  principles  to  be  observed.  Nor  is  it 
unfit  to  set  this  house-building  closely  beside  the  thought  of 
the  emotional  and  spirit  ial  union  of  which  we  have  just  -poken, 
for  the  house  in  which  the  family  lives  has  much  to  do  with  the 
health,  happiness  and  perpetuity  of  the  family ;  it  is  as  the  husk 
to  the  kernel,  and  the  nest  to  the  bird,  needful  to  the  existence, 
and  indicative  of  the  nature,  of  the  occupant. 

Now  as  the  same  general  principles  will  hold  good  in 
building  or  remodelling  a  home,  I  v/iU  suggest  some  of  the 
points  whii ;.  are  to  be  obser  ^^d,  as  far  as  practicable,  in  building 
a  comfortable  house. 

Let  the  house  stand  on  an  elevation:  this  secures  drainage, 
and  prevents  .o  a  great  dcgre  malana.  ■:  the  house  stands  on 
rising  land  the  cellar  will  generally  bo  dry ;  and  there  can  be  no 
health  in  a  house  with  a  da:  o  cellar.  I  notice  m:.ny  farm- 
houses set  close  down  der  a  hill  for  shelter  from  cold  and 
vrinds.  They  had  muc  utt.  le  half-way  or  .>.;  the  way  u[.  the 
hill :  the  breeze  is  hea.uiful,  but  the  mist  hanging  low  in  the 
hollow,  in  the  morning,  is  deadly.  If  the  soil  ai  uund  the  house 
is  gravelly,  and  declines  -ently  on  every  hand,  the  position  is 


THE  MODEL   HOME. 


517 


ly  wedded^ 
vould  have 
looking  in 
atcd  robins 
'  were  nest-* 
2  from  the 
some  other 
o  built  and 
,  principles, 
learly  alike. 
)uples  build 
;y  can   with 
ain  general 
Nor  is  it 
thought  of 
just  'poken/ 
do  with  the 
as  the  husk 
le  existence, 

[d  good  in 
some  of  the 
,  in  building 

•es  drainage, 
se  stands  on 
re  can  be  no 
many  farm- 
)ni  cold  and 
e  way  uj)  the 
f  low  in  the 
nd  the  house 
e  position  is 


enviable  indeed.  Not  only  will  you  have  healthfulncss,  easy 
drainage  and  a  sightly  position,  but  your  sloping  ground  offers 
a  fine  opportunity  for  terracing,  and  a  sodded  terrace  with 
shrubbery,  occasional  small  beds  of  flowers,  and  grape  arbors 
placed  over  the  main  path  on  each  terrace,  making  a  succession 
of  green  arcades,  leave  little  to  be  desired  in  the  surroundings 
of  a  comfortable  middle-class  home.  On  this  elevation  set 
your  house,  facing  the  southeast ;  you  will  then  have  well- 
sunned  rooms,  summer  coolness,  winter  protection,  and  escape 
damp  walls  and  leaking  chimneys.  Let  the  house  be  rather 
high  between  joints:  very  /<7/?y  ceilings  might  dwarf  the  apparent 
size  of  the  rooms  ana  make  them  difficult  to  heat,  but  avoid 
low  ceilings.  Have  windows  judiciously  placed  so  that  the 
rooms  can  be  well  aired ;  in  bed-rooms,  see  to  it  that  they  are 
so  set  that  the  room  can  be  thoroughly  aired  without  a  draught 
passing  over  the  bed.  Do  not  have  too  many  doors  in  one 
room,  and  never  have  a  room  capable  of  only  being  entered 
through  another.  Let  the  bed-rooms  be  comfortably  large ; 
have  no  nine-by-nine  cubby-holes  for  sleeping  apartments  :  crowd 
the  parlor  if  you  must,  but  let  us,  in  bed-rooms,  have  space  for 
breathing.  Do  not  have  bed-rooms  on  the  ground-floor;  it  is 
ilways  unhealthy  to  sleep  on  a  first  floor ;  many  cases  of  seem- 
ingly chronic  ill-health  ha\'e  been  cured  by  sending  the  patient 
into  the  third  story.  Be  sure  and  do  not  put  the  kitchen  in  the 
basement  or  cellar :  this  makes  too  many  steps  for  the  house- 
wife ;  too  much  heavy  carrying  for  the  maid«  •  the  fumes  of  the 
cooking  rise  through  the  house  and  are  driven  back  toward  the 
furnace-cellar,  and  rise  also  with  the  heat.  Il  :.h  •  kitchen  is 
beside  the  dining-room,  do  not  have  a  door  opening  between 
them,  but  through  a  lobby;  if  dining-room  and  kitchen  com- 
municate, the  dining-room  is  apt  to  be  611ed  with  steam, 
smoke  or  flies,  as  the  door  is  constantly  opened,  and  the  people 
at  table  get  a  view  of  the  kitchen  whenever  the  waiter  passes  in 


i 


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'i':. 


i 


ifl 


518 


THE    COMPLETE   HOME. 


f 


or  out.  Be  careful  about  the  building  of  the  chimneys :  let 
them  be  curved  rather  than  straight,  and  see  that  the  draught- 
is  good,  for  few  things  arc  so  destructive  of  family  good  temper, 
of  punctuality,  and  of  furniture,  as  smoking  chimneys  or  fires 
that  will  not  burn.  Have  plenty  of  closets.  Some  one  says 
that  "  women  especially  appreciate  the  comfort  and  advantage 
of  having  plenty  of  these  convenient  receptacles  for  old  clothes 
and  dirt."  Here  is  a  very  low  idea  of  good  housekeeping.  All 
the  closets  in  a  house  should  be  well  cleaned  quarterly :  not  a 
particle  of  dirt  should  accumulate  in  them  to  infect  the  air  of 
the  house  with  dust  and  stale  smells.  Old  clothes  should  be 
promptly  disposed  of:  those  useful  to  be  given  away  are  owed 
to  the  needy  ;  those  which  are  to  make  house  and  cleaning 
cloths  should  be  ripped,  washed,  and  folded  in  a  box;  those 
which  are  kept  for  rug  or  carpet  making  should  be  ripped  and 
cut  as  soon  as  possible.  Old  clothes  hanging  about,  or  tucked 
into  corners,  fill  a  house  with  mouldy  smells,  moths  and  roaches, 
and  encourage  mice. 

Let  every  precaution  possible  be  used  in  arranging  flues  to 
prevent  houses  catching  fire ;  let  no  stove-pipes  pass  through 
wooden  floors  unprotected  by  earthen  thimbles,  and  iron  or  tin 
sheathing,  and  let  no  pipes  or  low  chimneys  be  placed  whera 
their  sparks  will  lodge  under  a  higher  roof  Let  the  cellar  be 
dry,  hard  finished,  with  well -protected  and  lighted  inside  steps, 
outer  steps,  and  windows  fit  for  ventilating,  and  wire-screened  to 
keep  out  animals.  Have  a  large  cistern,  with  a  filter.  No 
water,  unless  of  a  very  good  spring,  is  so  healthful  for  drinking 
as  filtered  cistern  water.  The  best  fashion  is  to  divide  the 
cemented  cistern  perpendicularly  into  two  halves,  the  partition 
being  the  filter ;  let  the  water  run  in  on  one  side,  and  the  pump 
draw  from  the  other.  Both  fuel  and  water  should  be  obtainable 
without  going  from  under  shelter ;  many  a  woman's  life  has 
been  sacrificed  by  being  forced  to  run,  while  heated,  into  tha 


THE  MODEL  HOME. 


imneys :  lei 
he  draught' 
ood  temper, 
eys  or  fires 
le  one  says 
1  advantage 

old  clothes 
eping.  All 
erly :  not  a 
t  the  air  of 
5  should  be 
ly  are  owed 
nd  cleaning 
box ;   those 

ripped  and 
t,  or  tucked 
ind  roaches, 

ing  flues  to 
ass  through 

iron  or  tin 
laced  whera 
he  cellar  be 
inside  steps, 
-screened  to 

filter.  No 
for  drinking 

divide  the 
he  partition 
d  the  pump 
e  obtainable 
an's  life  has 
ed,  into  tha 


519 


cold  or  rain  for  water  or  fuel.  Every  house  should  have 
provision  for  several  open  fires.  In  early  spring  or  autumn 
these  are  both  cheerful  and  healthful,  and  nothing,  unless  it  be 
sunshine,  is  more  beneficial  in  a  sick-room.  If  the  house  is 
furnace-heated,  these  fires  are  still  useful.  Every  furnace  should 
get  its  air  supply  through  tubes  or  boxes  communicating  with 
the  outer  air,  not  less  than  two  or  three  feet  above  the  surface  of 
the  ground  :  one  does  not  wish  to  have  the  confined  air  of  a 
cellar  distributed  over  the  house  for  breathing,  nor  to  breathe 
air  impregnated  with  the  damp,  vegetable,  and  insect  decay  of 
the  earth's  surface.  Let  the  furnace  also  have  a  water-box 
which  should  not  get  dry  so  long  as  fires  are  kept  up. 

If  water  is  introduced  into  the  house  through  lead  pipes,  great 
pains  should  be  taken  not  to  use  the  water  which  has  stood  in 
these  pipes,  as  it  has  become  poisonous :  pipes  should  be  lined 
with  rubber.     Never  have  a  zinc-lined  cistern,  and  do  not  allow 
water  which  has  stood  in  a  copper  boiler  to  be  used  for  any 
cooking  purposes.     City-plumbed  houses,  where  there  are  ser- 
vants, demand  a  housewife's  constant  vigilance  to  prevent  the 
slow  poisoning  of  her  family  in  such  ways  as  these.     Extreme 
care  should  be  used  in  cleansing  all  sinks  and  waste  pipes:  con- 
centrated lye  water,  sal-soda  water  and  ammonia  water  are  all 
good,  while  too  much  praise  can  hardly  be  bestowed  on  potash, 
a  strong,  hot  solution  of  which  will  destroy  all  hair,  animal  mat- 
ter, vegetable  decay  and  grease,  and  so  save  us  the  visitations 
of  fevers  and  plumbers. 

Every  house  should  have  at  least  two  main  stair-ways.  As 
to  the  colors  in  interior  finishing  of  a  house,  be  sure  and  avoid 
glaring  white  walls,  a'^  iliey  are  bad  for  the  eyes.  Where 
rooms  are  whitewashed,  the:  walls  must  be  relieved  by  pictures, 
branches  of  green  leaves  and  soft-colored  draperies.  Kitchens' 
should  have  dark  paint  or  dark  graining.  For  halls  and  lobbies 
nothing  is  better  than  dark  walnut,  either  the  wood  or  walnut 


520 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


'\   n 


I 


Ml 


coloring,  relieved  by  gilt  mouldings.     When  pictures  are  to  be 
hung  on  the  walls  the  paper  or  wall-painting  should  be  in  sub- 
dued colors  and  without  marked  patterns.     The  ceilings  arc 
most   favorable    to   the    eye   and    harmonious    which    imitate 
Nature's  hues  for  depth  and  distance,  and  appear  in  faint  blues 
and  grays.     Where  no  pictures  are  to  be  used,  the  wall-papers 
can  be  largely  figured,  and  walls  of  halls  and  large  rooms  can 
be  beautifully  papered  in  panels  of  landscapes  or  pictures  of 
statuar)'.     A  narrow  gilt  moulding  at  the  ceiling  and  one  three 
ieet  from  the  floor  favorably  break  the  monctony  of  a  wall.     A 
solid  or  chiefly  green  paper  is  to  be  avoided,  as  it  is  usually 
poisonous,  but  deep  maroons  are  rich,  durable  and  harmonize 
with  various  stylos  of  furnishing.     Grainings  and  dark  paints  or 
stainings  save  time  in  cleaning,  needing  only  to  be  wiped  with  a 
sponge,  moistened   in   weak   ammonia  water,   and   suit   many 
rooms.     For  a  parlor,  cream  or  silve;  -gray  papers,  with  delicate 
gold  figures,  are  very  pretty.     Some  rooms  look  well,  papered  in 
columns  and  cornices,  with  medallions  in  the  space.s.     Choose 
paint  and  paper  to  suit  the  size,  lighting  and  use  of  the  room. 
It  adds  to  the  beauty  and  variety  of  a  house  to  have  something 
distinctive  in  the  color  of  different  rooms,  as  one  in  red,  one  in 
blue,  one  in  gray,  or  in  green— but  here  you  must  be  chary  for 
fear  of  arsenical  poisoning  ;  rose-color  and  buff  are  also  choice 
shades  for  bed-rooms.     Wall-papers  can  be  cleaned  by  dusting 
thoroughly  with  a  soft  cloth,  and  then  rubbing  downwards  in  a 
long,  straight,  light  rub  with  a  piece  of  stale  bread ;  do  not  rub 
hard  nor  crooked-wise.     If  you  boil  zvhitcivash,  adding  to  every 
two  gallons  while  hot  one  tablespoon  ground  alum,  one-half 
pint  flour  pa.stc,  one-half  pound  glue,  the  wash  will  be  nearly  a» 
firm  and  shining  as  paint,  while  it  can  be  tinted  with  inditjo, 
ochre,  or  lampblack,  or  red,  to  give  you  sky-blue,  drab  or  buff 
walls.     Concerning  furniture  I  have  so  lately  spoken,  tnat  it  is 
needless  to  say  more  on  a  subject  so  largely  to  be  governed  by 


ires  are  to  be 
Id  be  in  sub- 
ceilings  arc 
hich    imitate 
in  faint  blues 
e  wall-papers 
;c  rooms  can 
r  pictures  of 
,nd  one  three 
3f  a  wall.     A 
it  is  usually 
id  harmonize 
lark  paints  or 
wiped  with  a 
d  suit   many 
with  delicate 
}ll,  papered  in 
ices.     Choo.se 
of  the  room, 
ivc  something 
in  red,  one  in 

I  be  chary  for 
re  also  choice 
ed  by  du9tin|.j 
iwn wards  in  a 
d  ;  do  not  rub 
Jding  to  every 
lum,  one-half 

II  be  nearly  as 
d  with  indigo, 
>,  drab  or  buff 
)ken,  tnat  it  is 
c  governed  by 


r/r£  MODEL  HOME.  ^21 

each  householder's  taste  and  means.  Let  the  furniture  be 
suited  to  its  use,  solidly  good  in  quality,  subdued  rather  than 
loud  in  taste,  and  ^uch  as  will  give  a  home-like  look  to  ycur 
apartments.  Let  there  be  careful  avoidance  of  superfluity  or 
sparseness.  Do  not  have  everything  in  the  home  bought:  it 
savors  too  much  of  the  shop  and  too  little  of  human  interests  • 
tooks  too  much  like  a  hotel.  Have  little  ornamental  and  useful 
things  made  by  your  own  hands:  they  will  indicate  that  the 
dwelling  has  an  animating  and  interested  soul.  If  you  are  unfort- 
unately without  an  eye  for  colors,  take  counsel  in  furnishing  of 
some  friend  who  has  taste  in  this  direction,  for  a  discord  in  color 
will  strike  some  of  your  guests  as  harshly  and  painfully  as  a 
discord  in  music.  Do  not  fear  that  you  will  betray  bad  taste  by 
a  decisive  color.  Some  people  fear  to  indulge  in  a  line  of  red  or 
orange  or  pure  yellow,  as  if  it  were  a  sin :  remember  that  these 
colors  came  to  us  from  the  Great  Artist,  that  he  has  put  peculiar 
honor  upon  them,  inasmuch  as  the  sunlight  is  golden  and  the 
morning  and  evening  skies  are  freely  painted  in  reds.  Ruskin 
calls  red  pure  color.  Sometimes  all  that  a  doleful-looking  room 
needs  to  correct  it  is  a  fragment  of  scarlet  or  clear  yellow. 

Now  set  this  commodious,  neat,  convenient  and  tasteful  house 
in  its  proper  grounds ;  givi:  attention  to  keeping  these  grounds 
neatly.  Have  flowers,  and  not  too  many  of  them  to  look  like 
a  florist's;  have  shrubs  flowering  and  foliage  shrubs,  but  do  not 
crowd ;  have  trees,  but  not  too  shady ;  have  plenty  of  grass, 
smoothly  shaven,  closely  sown  and  re-sown,  until  it  grows  like 
velvet.  Do  not  forget  to  have  patches  of  myrtle  ami  of  blue 
violets  in  nooks  where  they  may  "  run  out  the  grass,"  and  be  as 
lovely  as  they  please ;  have  vines,  for  nothing  is  more  delicious 
than  a  fragrant  honeysuckle  or  jasmine ;  nothing  is  more  gor- 
gcous  in  autumn  than  a  \/oodbinc,  and  nothing  is  more  health, 
giviucj  than  a  plenty  of  grapes.  If  there  is  room,  cultivate 
•mall  fruits,  for  they  add  to  the  hoalthfulness  of  a  family; 


Hi 


I 


I'liH 

r 

:| 
1 

r 

mm 

i 


822 


T/fE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


Now,  into  this  beautiful  and  well-surrounded  home  we  must 
invite  those  virtues  which  are  the  true  Lares  and  Penates  of  a 
dwelling.  First,  we  must  call  in  Order,  for  where  Order  is 
lacking,  comfort  and  beauty  and  their  attendant  train,  and  often 
love,  will  fly  out  of  the  window.  Order  will  secure  the  saving 
of  time,  the  saving  of  strength,  prevent  the  rapid  wasting  or 
Wearing  out  of  house  or  furnishings,  and  preserve  a  healthful 
atmosphere,  inspiriting  to  the  family  and  inviting  to  guests. 

But  Order  alone  might  be  cold,  and  carried  to  the  extreme 
of  being  forbidden.  Let  us  secure  the  gracious  presence  of 
Beauty.  The  love  of  Beauty  is  in  the  human  soul  a  reflection 
of  the  mind  of  God.  Truly,  He  is  a  right  kingly  lover  of 
Beauty,  who  could  not  let  even  a  beetle  go  from  his  creating 
hand  without  polishing  and  spotting  its  wings ;  who  paints 
admirably,  not  only  the  flowers  of  the  field,  but  the  fishes  of 
the  sea,  the  crabs  crawling  on  the  shore,  and  the  reptiles 
burrowing  in  wood  ?^\^  wa'l.  If  we  deny  our  homes  of 
beauty,  we  deny  - 'hat  would  be  inspiriting  and  refining  to  our- 
selves, and  we  bLi€\vf  m^c  .ildrcn  of  their  natural  inheritance. 
Beauty  makes  homes  .  ar  to  their  occupants,  it  softens  the 
asperities  of  life,  and  binds  in  mutual  tastes  and  mutual 
pleasures  the  members  of  a  family. 

Yet  the  pursuit  of  Beauty  must  not  lead  us  into  extravagance. 
We  must  invoice  Economy  to  preside  in  our  homes.  Extrava- 
gance is  one  of  the  crying  evils  of  the  age :  it  provokes  to 
envy,  emulation,  hatred,  dishonesty ;  it  has  shaken  the  whole 
fabric  of  society,  and  the  faith  of  nations.  Where  one  man  sins 
in  penuriousncss,  ten  sin  in  extravagance.  It  is  a  sin  of  sel- 
fishness and  of  deceit.  The  extravagance  of  tiie  age  has 
ruined  homes  already  established,  and  hindered  the  cstabli.sh- 
mcnt  of  others.  People  become  too  .selfish,  or  too  timid  to 
mj^rr".  If  n.'onlo  do  not  need  to  practise  Economy  for  their 
own  .sakes,  they  must  practise  it  for  the  sake  of  their  children. 


THE  MODEL   HOME. 


523 


liome  we  must 
d  Penates  of  a 
'here  Order  is 
:rain,  and  often 
urc  the  saving 
lid  wasting  or 
-ve  a  healthful 
to  guests, 
o  the  extreme 
IS  presence  ot" 
oul  a  reflection 
ingly  lover  of 
m  his  creating 
3 ;  who  paints 
t  the  fishes  of 
d  the  reptiles 
our  homes  of 
efining  to  our- 
•al  inheritance, 
it  softens  the 
s    and    mutual 

)  extravagance, 
ncs.  E.xtrava' 
it  provokes  to 
ken  the  whole 
c  one  man  sins 
>  a  sin  of  sel- 
the   age   has 

the  cstablish- 
r  too  timid  to 
n.omy  for  their 

their  children. 


of  the  community,  and  of  their  servants,  and  for  the  enlarge « 
ment  of  their  charities.  Guarding  against  meanness,  they  must 
unite  liberality  with  a  wise  Economy. 

Economy  is  the  virtue  which  preserves.    There  must  be  yoked 
with  it  the  virtue  which  creates.     Let  us  invite  into  our  hou.sc' 
holds,  I.NDUSTRV.     Accustomed  to  Industry,  little  time  is  left  fr.r 
contention,  for  vice,  or  for  destructivencss.     Let  parents  con- 
sider their  families :  if  they  have  a  child  who  is  always  busy, 
that  child  is  peaceable,  contented,  breaks  out  into  no  disorders, 
destroys  no  property.     What  is  true  of  the  individual  will  be 
true  of  the  whole  family;  what  is  true  of  the  family  will  be  true 
of  the  community,  and  of  the  state.     It  is  the  Industry  wedded 
to  the  Economy  of  France,  which,  in  dire  disasters  as  great  as 
ever  shook  a  nation,  has  maintained  her  credit,  and  has  prevented 
her  being  bankrupted,  and  parcelled  out  among  the  nations.     A 
habit  of  Industry  secures  the  future  of  our  children.     Wealth 
may  fly:  indeed,  it  seems  to  grow  wings  with  wonderful  facility; 
but  Industry  is  a  perpetual  inheritance.     Industry  maintains  the 
Home.     This  Industry  should  be  honest  and  wisely  directed  : 
this  can  be  secured  only  by  development  of  the  mind  and  the 
reasoning  faculties;  the  hand   must  be  guided  by  the  brain; 
therefore,  in  our  Home  we  must  cultivate  Education. 

Education  in  a  home  is  like  a  fountain  of  living  waters. 
Education  is  constantly  bringing  forth  something  new  and 
attractive ;  its  ordinary  tendency  is  to  prevent  extravagance  and 
crime.  It  makes  a  person  happy  in  himself;  preserves  him  from 
constantly  being  cast  on  others  for  advice  or  entertainment ;  it 
refines  away  the  roughnesses  of  natural  disposition,  opens  to  u.s 
opportunities  of  accomplishing  things  useful  and  praiseworthy; 
it  fills  usefully  leisure  time,  binds  a  family  in  common  interests 
and  pursuits,  secures  cheerful  content  even  in  the  midst  of 
poverty,  d'sappointment,  or  ill  hc-ilth. 
11  ;  natural  tendency  of  Education  is  to  impress  upon  a  man 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 

that  he  is  one  of  many ;  that,  not  beir.g  in  the  state  of  savage 
nature,  he  cannot  say  that  he  is  independent  of  his  fellows,  nor 
that  they  aro  independent  of  him.  He  recognizes  that  he  owes 
duties  to  his  race.  The  recognition  of  these  duties,  the  realiz- 
ation of  his  wide  relationships  to  his  kind,  reveal  to  him  the  duty 
of  extending  Hospitality.  Here  is  a  rare  Home  virtue,  by 
which  the  happy  Home  becomes  as  a  city  set  on  a  hill,  which 
cannot  be  hid.  By  exercise  of  this  virtue  the  Home  makes 
broad  its  gates,  enlarges  its  sphere,  and  increases  its  bene- 
factions : 

"  Till,  like  a  ray  of  light  .across  the  land, 

The  heart's  large  love  goes,  brightening  more  and  more." 

As,  in  speaking  of  Industry  and  Education  in  the  Home,  wc 
might  refer  to  the  parable  of  the  entrusted  talents,  and  the 
inquiry  made  after  their  use,  so  in  regat*d  to  the  exercise  of 
Hospitality  wc  may  refer  to  that  panorama  of  the  judgment 
when  we  see  the  Judge  seated  on  his  throne,  and  hear  him  say: 
"  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and 
ye  gave  me  drink ;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in  ;  naked, 
and  ye  clothed  mc ;  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me ;  in  prison,  and 
ye  came  to  mc."  Here,  in  Hospitality,  the  one  jewel  home  is 
fitly  set  with  others  of  its  kind,  crown  jewels  of  the  King. 

Closely  linked  with  the  exercise  of  Hospitality  is  that  grace 
of  Courtesy,  without  which  Hospitality  would  be  but  poorly 
exhibited.  Let  us  in  our  Model  Home  exhibit  Coumnsv;  this 
grace  has  well  been  called  "  the  flower  of  flowers."  This  Courtesy 
fills  the  Home  like  a  soft  pervasive  music ;  to  its  tender  notes 
the  joys  and  cares  of  domestic  life  move  gently  on,  the  one 
prevented  from  jarring  the  other,  and  concord  is  developed  from 
the  whole.  This  Courtesy  is  the  very  essence  of  the  Fifth 
Commandment;  it  rises  out  of  our  brotherhood  under  one 
r'atherj  God=  It  passes  ox\  froni  pa'*cnts  to  ch.ildrcn  and 
servants,  to  the  stranger  within  our  pates,  and  gives  to  each  hi» 
due,  as  "  superior,  inferior,  or  equal." 


le  state  of  savage 
Df  his  fellows,  nor 
lizcs  that  he  owes 

duties,  the  realiz- 
al  to  him  the  duty 

Home  virtue,  by 
t  on  a  hill,  which 
the  Home  makes 
creases   its  bene- 

and  more." 

in  the  Home,  wc 
talents,  and  the 

0  the  exercise  of 
of  the  judgment 

.nd  hear  him  say : 

1  was  thirsty,  and 
lok  me  in  ;  naked, 
Tie  ;  in  prison,  and 
rjc  jewel  home  is 
f  the  King. 

dity  is  that  grace 
lid  be  but  poorly 
it  CouRTnsv :  this 
s."  This  Courtesy 
J  its  tender  notes 
jntly  on,  the  one 
is  developed  from 
:nce  of  the  Fifth 
rhood  under  one 
to  children  and 
gives  to  each  hi» 


THE   MODEL   HOME. 


523 


Without  this  genial,  chivalric  virtue,  there  would  be  but 
little  exercise  of  the  grace  of  Friendship,  and  this  brings  us  to 
the  thought  that  in  our  homes  we  should  cherish  Friendship, 
This  grace  expands  the  soul,  it  leads  us  out  of  selfishness,  and 
a  narrow  round  of  thought,  to  sympathize  with  other  hearts 
which  have  their  own  circle  of  attachments  and  duties ;  and  thus, 
one  to  another,  men  are  linked  in  kindness  throughout  the 
world.  As,  in  the  family,  ages  and  temperaments  vary,  so  the 
choice  of  friends  will  vary :  the  child  has  its  inseparable  play- 
mate, the  yorth  a  chosen  companion;  the  hearts  which  have 
experienced  and  suffered  much  find  an  affinity  with  souls  of 
like  experiences.  Thus  by  friendships,  while  each  member  of 
the  Family  brings  into  the  household  interest  and  sympathy  the 
comrade  of  his  especial  preference,  the  circle  of  Home  interest 
and  outlook  is  widened ;  these  friendships  constantly  re-vivify 
the  life  of  Home  by  bringing  into  it  new  elements,  and  giving  to 
it  new  points  of  observation  and  contact  with  the  bu.sy  world. 

Now  how  shall  these  exterior  claims  be  made  to  harmonize 
with  the  v.orld  within  ?  How  shall  the  duties  of  Courtesy,  and 
of  Friendship,  and  Hospitality,  be  performed  without  robbing 
any  of  the  household  of  their  rights  ?  The  demands  of  the 
Home  alone  are  myriad,  and  what  shall  be  done  with  this  oute: 
myriad  of  flocking  cares  ? 

There  is  but  one  way  in  which  we  obtain  time  for  all,  doing 
these,  and  not  leaving  the  other  undone,  and  that  way  is  to  have 
in  our  work  an  unimpeachable  Methoo.  Not  only  must  wc 
have  Order,  regular  succession  in  duties,  a  time  and  a  place  for 
all  things,  but  we  must  discern  between  the  right  and  the  wrong 
way  >'"  doing  all  things ;  and  selecting  for  each  Juty  the  very 
best  method  of  performing  it,  we  shall  have  discovered  a  time 
and  strength-saver  which  shall  give  us  leisure  for  all  things. 

We  tnu.st  sweep  u  room  by  law,  and  then  we  shall  have  time 
for  ethics.    This  beautiful  Method  we  must  extend  to  the  hand' 


M 


Wk 


S28 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


P 


ling  of  the  Family  Revenues,  and  each  month's  expendrtures 
and  reserves  should  show  a  handsome  piece  of  domestic  finan- 
ciering.  Neither  mean  nor  lavish,  turning  money  ever  toward 
its  noblest  uses,  so  that  instead  of  our  dollars  being  a  gilded 
chain  to  draw  us  down  to  hell,  they  are  golden  rounds  of  a  lad- 
der whereby  we  climb  toward  Heaven ;  we  shall  find  in  lives 
enriched  by  liberality,  lives  honest  and  of  good  report,  beautiful 
with  art,  graced  with  literature,  expanded  in  benevolence,  that 
we  have  solved  the  mightiest  problem  of  being,  and  while  inca- 
pable of  carrying  our  valuables  out  of  this  v/orld  zvitlr  us,  we  have 
forestalled  the  hour  of  severance  from  earthly  things,  and  have 
sent  our  treasures  on  before  us,  to  be  laid  up  for  our  coming  in 
the  safe-keeping  of  Heaven.  Happy  he  over  whom  the  daisies 
write  the  eulogy: 

"  How  many  a  poor  one's  blessing  went 
With  thee  beneath  the  low  green  tent, 
Whose  curtain  never  outward  swings  !  " 

And  just  at  this  point,  when  we  consider  how  much  of  the 
funds  of  a  Family  arc,  in  one  way  or  another,  paid  out  to  em- 
ployes, we  are  led  to  think  of  another  Virtue  of  the  Home — 
faitltfiilness  to  our  domestics.  We  owe  those  whom  we  employ 
something  more  than  their  wages ;  we  owe  them  human  sym- 
pathy, interest  in  their  personal  affairs  and  well-being.  In  the 
servant  we  behold  a  fellow-toiler  on  that  highway  of  life  which 
is  hard  enough  and  dangerous  enough  at  best ;  if  we  can  warn 
of  a  danger,  remove  an  obstruction,  give  a  direction,  show  a 
resting-place,  then  just  so  far  we  arc  his  keeper  and  responsible 
for  his  getting  safely  to  the  end  of  his  route.  The  hired  help  is 
a  very  important  part  of  the  family,  holding  in  his  keeping  a 
large  share  of  the  family  comfort  and  success,  and  it  depends 
very  greatly  on  ourselves  whether  he  shall  be  a  real  help,  or  a 
terrible  hindrance.  In  fret,  In  the  Family,  UNlxy  must  bind  m 
together  as  a  whole;  the  individuals  must  not  be  parcelled  out, 


THE  MODEL  HOME. 


ith's  expendrtures 
af  domestic  finan- 
loney  ever  toward 
irs  being  a  gilded 
I  rounds  of  a  lad- 
hall  find  in  lives 
d  report,  beautiful 
benevolence,  that 
J,  and  while  inca- 
i  xviili-  us,  we  have 
things,  and  have 
"or  our  coming  in 
whom  the  daisies 


527 


how  much  of  the 
paid  out  to  em- 
^  of  the  Home — 
vhom  we  employ 
em  human  sym- 
:ll-bcing.  In  the 
kvay  of  life  which 
;  if  we  can  warn 
direction,  show  a 
r  and  responsible 
The  hired  help  is 
in  his  keeping  a 
,  and  it  depends 
!  a  real  help,  or  a 
iry  must  bind  us 
bu  parcelled  out, 


a.we.gh.ng  to  see  how  much  less  of  hearty  affection  may  b; 
dealt  out  to  one  who  holds  neither  the  pre-eminence  of  the  eldest 
chdd  nor  the  petted  position  of  the  youngest;  to  this  one  who 
s  only  the  stray  waif  o^  another  family  drifted  into  our  Home  • 
to  th.s  one  who  is  the  step-mother,  or  the  old  grandparent,  o; 
he  ma:den  aunt;  to  this  one  who  is  but  the  hireling:  but  rather 
let  us     steem  love,  unity  in  the  family,  as  the  heart's  choicest 
gold,  wh.ch  we  protect  against  loss,  to  which  we  daily  add  like 
preaous  grains,  which  we  polish  and  refine,  knowing  it  to  be 
that  winch  is  in   itself  indestructible,  and  which  can  n.ake  us 
rich  mdeed.     And  how  important  is  this  maintaining  of  har- 
mony-th.s  giving  to  each  heart   its  tender  due!     Wlien  we 
remember,  that  one  by  one  these  linked  lives  must  be  separated, 
that  the  Famdy  Circle  shall  be  broken,  that  the  hearthstone  and 
the  board  shall  show  vacant  places,  that  those  whom  we  love 
shall  shp  out  of  our  sight,  beyond  our  hand-clasping,  out  of 
tne  range  of  our  voices,  let  them  not  go  defrauded  of  our  love 
pamed  by  our  neglect:  but  dowered  well  with  our  richest  affec' 
t.ons,  our  lives  with  them  projected  into  the  future,  and  already 
shanng  their  immortal   state,  even  for  us  who   remain  death 
shall  have  lost  its  sting  and  life  shall  have  gotten  the  victory. 
How  smgs  the  poet : 

"O  brother!  only  T  ami  thou 

Are  loft  of  all  that  circle  now- 

The  dear  home  faces  wliereuoon 

The  fitful  firelight  paid  an<l  shone; 

llenceforwar.l,  listen  as  we  will, 

The  voices  of  that  hearth  arc  sli'll ; 

Look  where  we  may  the  wide  earth  o'er. 

Those  lighted  faces  smile  no  more. 

Their  written  words  we  lin^^er  o'er; 
But  in  the  sun  they  cast  no  shade'; 
No  step  is  on  the  conscious  flour ! 
Vet  love  will  dream,  and  faith  will  trust 
(.Ssnrr  Up  vv'n-,  knows  oui  need  is  just) 
That  somehow,  somewhere  meet  we  muit." 


'il 


!"•■!■ 


528 


THE  com:' let::  :!Om:i 


This  tender  love  in  the  Home  is  mother  of  self-sacrifice,  and 
thoughtfulness,  and  sympathy.  It  runs  before  demand  of 
request  to  secure  the  happiness  of  each  dear  object;  and  where 
there  is  a  prevalence  of  such  love,  where  each  member  of  the 
family  strives  as  heartily  for  another's  good  as  for  his  own,  then 
the  happiness  of  Home  is  secured  ;  there  all  tastes  are  con- 
sidered, and  though  circumstances  may  sternly  prevent  their 
gratification,  yet  they  are  sure  of  appreciating  recognition.  The 
children  of  such  a  home  do  not  fly  from  it  like  young  birds 
from  the  nest,  and  forget  their  cradle  and  their  parents;  but 
loving  memories  cluster  around  it,  strong  cords  of  affection  hold 
the  spirit,  those  who  go  out  re-visit  it  often  in  dream  and  fancy, 
and  whenever  it  is  possible  their  pilgrim  feet  return  to  this 
Mecca  of  the  heart. 

Inspire  now  this  blessed  Home  with  the  breath  of  immor- 
tality.    This  beautiful  clay,  moulded  by  the  hand  of  the  Divine 
Sculptor  into  the  image  of  things  above,  is  too  fair  to  perish 
with  the  products  of  earth ;  this  perpetually  renewing  Adam 
lacks  only  the  breath  of  Elohim.     Inspire,  then,  this  home  with 
a  vital  piety ;  turn  all  these  faces  God-ward ;  let  them  see  tower- 
mg  above  the  far  horizon  of  their  life  one  object  toward  which 
alike  all  their  faces  are  steadfastly  set.     This  vital  piety  only 
will  be  able  to  give  courage  in  disappointment,  vigor  in  defeat, 
strength  against  temptation,  wisdom  in  success,  perpetuity  to 
love,  and  faith  to  conquer  death.     On  this  theme  I  can  think  of 
no  finer  expression  than  that  of  a  French  pastcur,  Coulins,  in  a 
sermon   called    The  Royal  Family :   "  With  the  eye  of  flesh  I 
behold  this  Family  in  the  midst  of  a  proud  and  ungodly  genera- 
tion,  unknown,  despised,   persecuted   even,  treated  as  the  oflf- 
sccuring  of  all  things.     With  the  eye  of  faith  I  behold  it  alone 
received  into  the  Ark  of  Safety,  shone  on  by  the  blessed  rays  of 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  wafted  by  the  favoring  gale  of  grace, 
and,  steered  by  a  steady  hand,  sailing  onwards  in  peace  to  the 


7'.(/E  MODEL   NOME. 


[-sacrifice,  and 
2  demand  or 
;t ;  and  where 
lember  of  the 

his  own,  then 
istes  are  con" 

prevent  their 
)gnition.  The 
:  young  birds 
-  parents;  but 
■  affection  hold 
:am  and  fancy, 
return  to  this 

ith  of  immor. 

of  the  Divine 

fair  to  perish 
newing  Adam 
this  home  with 
lem  see  tower- 
t  toward  which 
ital  piety  only 
Mgor  in  defeat, 
,  perpetuity  to 

I  can  think  of 
r,  Coulins,  in  a 

eye  of  flesh  I 
ngodly  genera- 
ted as  the  ofiT- 
bchold  it  alone 
blessed  rays  of 
r  pale  of  erace. 
in  peace  to  the 


629 


Iiaveh  of  a  blissful  eternity;  whilst  all  around  I  sec  engulphed 
m  the  deluge  of  a  common  destruction  the  false  grandeurs,  the 
delusi/e  distinctions,  on  which  the  children  of  earth  built  the 
frail  edifice  of  their  pride.  With  the  eye  of  flesh  I  see  society 
broken  up  into  classes  and  castes,  which  seem  divided  from  one 
another  as  by  mountains  and  by  impassable  precipices,  by  those 
chimeras  which  we  call  birth,  position,  fortune,  tastes,  interests. 
With  the  eye  of  faith  I  see  but  one  profound  distinction  among 
all  earth's  families,  one  privilege  and  one  misery— the  misery, 
immense,  unfathomable,  of  being  out  of  Christ-^the  privilege,' 
immense,  unfathomable,  of  being  heir  to  redemption  in  him :  a 
Family  Lost!  a  Family  Saved  ! !  That  family  which  has  been 
called  by  that  only  name  whereby  we  may  be  saved," 

Before  us  thus  opens  a  goodly  vista:  the  whole  family  in 
heaven ;  the  Home  transplanted  for  still  more  excellent  bloom 
and  fruitage  in  the  realm  of  compensation.  Let  us  be  sure  that 
he  whose  hand  has  here  been  so  liberal  in  giving  will  not  begin 
*to  rob  us  as  we  enter  his  presence,  but  will  add  yet  more  and 
more  to  those  good  gifts  which  enrich  a  Home. 

Even  here  below  a  wisely  conducted  home,  where  due  regard 
is  paid  to  laws  of  health  and  morals,  is  capable  of  long  duration. 
Many  couples  celebrate  their  golden  wedding-day  surrounded, 
as  by  starry  clusters,  by  other  homes  which  have  caught  their 
light  from  theirs.  When  such  a  beautiful  anniversary  dawns, 
what  memories  of  trembling  hopes  and  anxious  fears  must 
crowd  the  soul !  Here,  in  fair  matrons  and  bearded  men,  are 
the  children  for  whose  lives  we  often  feared  whrn  they  seemed 
to  hover  on  the  verge  of  the  grave.  These  athletes,  who  have 
battled  with  fortune,  who  have  won  their  meed,  and  have  passed 
the  contest  down  to  others,  are  those  whom  we  feared  could 
never  hold  their  own  in  the  sharp  struggle  for  existence.  Onca 
more  we  see — 

"  The  world  IielnnRs  to  thosf  who  come  the  last, 
They  shall  find  hope  and  slreng  h  as  we  have  done.* 


'%: 


'i«1 


530 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


:!      •'« 


It  seemed  long  to  look  forward,  this  lapse  of  half  a  century,  but 
its  memory  is  as  of  a  dream  of  the  morning,  and  the  pair  in 
whom  so  long  ago  the  home  began  stand  fresh  and  vigorous, 
and  strong  in  experience,  and  glad  in  the  fruition  of  their  hqpes. 

There  have  been  tiaose  who  have  not  only  seen  the  golden 
wedding-day,  but  have  seen  even  the  seventy-fifth  anniversary 
of  their  marriage.  Such  instances  are  rare  indeed,  but  in  them 
we  catch  a  glimpse  of  how  long  a  home  may  be  prolonged  in  its 
original  founders,  and  we  consider  that  in  the  succession  of  its 
inheritors  the  Home  is  immortal  upon  earth :  it  is  an  evergreen 
among  the  trees  of  the  field  forever  imperceptibly  renewing  its 
foliage.  The  long  silent  and  childless  home  of  Abraham  put 
forth  new  strength  in  the  dwelling  of  Isaac,  and  spread  out 
broadly  and  vigorously  in  the  full  house  of  Jacob,  reaching  at 
last  in  "  millionfold  vitality  into  the  thousands  of  Ephraim  and 
the  V.;n  ihuusandsof  Manasseh. 

Thv  fainily  was  by  nature  intended  to  be  indestructible.  This 
dyinp  out  of  households  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  original 
expectation,  that  each  home  should  not  only  make  its  own  place 
good,  but  yield  to  time  the  proper  interest  on  its  living.  If  a 
family  dies  out,  it  is  undubitably  because  some  law  of  health  or 
morals  has  been  violated ;  knowingly  or  ignorantly  some  primal 
law  has  been  transgressed ;  the  stock  which  should  have  grown 
better  and  better  with  civilization  and  cultivation  has  dropped 
into  decay.  A  vigorous,  active,  cheery,  confident,  successful 
race  is  the  heirloom  of  most  good  homes  to  the  world.  The 
homes  of  genius,  of  artists,  of  profound  scholars,  of  great 
inventors,  of  unconquerable  generals,  of  mighty  rulers,  are 
comparatively  few.  One  home  produced  a  William  the  Silent, 
and  a  million  of  homes  gave  him  the  dauntless  nation  which  he 
lifted  into  glory.  Nor  is  it  mere  numbers  which  are  to  keep  a 
household  from  decay,  a  lineage  from  exh.:Tustinn;  these  exces- 
sive numbers  are  sometimes  the  very  token  that  a  family  is 
"  running  out,"  that  its  vigor  is  at  discount 


If  a  century,  but 

and  the  pair  in 
ih  and  vigorous, 
n  of  their  hqpes. 
seen  the  golden 
-fifth  anniversary 
lecd,  but  in  them 

prolonged  in  its 
succession  of  its 
t  is  an  evergreen 
ibly  renewing  its 
of  Abraham  put 

and  spread  out 
icob,  reaching  at 

of  Ephraim  and 

;structible.  This 
with  the  original 
ike  its  own  place 
1  its  living.     If  a 

law  of  health  or 
ntly  some  primal 
ould  have  grown 
tion  has  dropped 
fident,  successful 

the  world.  The 
:holars,  of  great 
ghty  rulers,  are 
illiam  the  Silent, 
5  nation  which  he 
ich  are  to  keep  a 
ion ;  these  exces- 

that  a  family  is 


THE  MODEL    HOME. 


631 


* 


Hugh  Miller  says  he  has  ob.servcd  that  as  a  type  degc  neratcsc 
its  individuals  exceedingly  multip/y,  but  their  perfection  is  lost 
the  germ  of  life  within  them  is  weakened,  their  value  to  the 
world  is  continually  decreasing,  and  nature  wipes  out  what  is 
effete.  How  careful  should  parents  then  be  to  cultivate  their 
children  into  the  best  that  is  possible  in  phv  l.al,  mental  and 
moral  health,  and  into  a  dauntless  courage  can  bear  tl>e 

rude  shocks  of  life,  and  become  master  of  its  own  future '    -he 
host  of  children  k      to  come  up  as  they  will,  to  tempt  in  follv 
and  fault,  the  ruin  of  their  forces,  is  no  boon  to  a  state  •  the 
children,  who  will  be  to  the  world  a  gift  worth  its  having  nn.st 
be  worthy  in  themselves,  and  worth  is  an  affair  of  cultivation 
Every  family  should   behold  in  its  children  the  norm  of  the 
church  and  of  the  state:  the  inheritors  and  creators  of  the  future 
Every  age  must  cradle  its  own  kings,  conquerors,  saints  and 
philanthropists.     The    Home   is   the   true  "Tree  of  Universal 
Nature,"  which  the  Northern  races  celebrate :  its  roots  extend 
through  all  the  world  and  through  all  time,  and  it  shall  abide 
the  last  conflict,  and  live  serene  in  a  new  heaven  and  a  new 
earth.     To  shield  and  provide  for  this  home,  to  bulwark  it  from 
foes  without,  to  maintain  its  place  in  the  world,  is  man's  work— 
the  work  of  the   husband  and  father;    and  this  work  should 
ennoble  him  to  himself,  and  make  him  strong  against  tempta- 
tion, and  eager  in  every  way  to  fit  himself  to  be  a  worthy  guar- 
dian of  what  is  so  precious.     He  should  feel  that  he  attains  his 
fullest  and  best  development,  and  best  justifies  his  living,  in  the 
happy  exercise  of  family  duties  and  relations:  here  lie  his  finest 
possibilities.     To  build  up  and  guide  the  home  within,  to  admin- 
ister its  resources,  to  create  within  happiness,  affection,  honor, 
is  woman's  part.     Infinite  indeed  is  the  folly  of  that  woman  wlio 
depreciates  or  permits  the  weakening  of  this  her  kingdom,  \Ahcre 
she  makes  her  best  conquests,  and  secures  her  most  beautiful 
rewards.     That  is  a  more  than  suicidal  rashness  which  would 


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Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14SS0 

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THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


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yield  that  vantage-ground  of  Home,  whence  woman  has  -been 
able  to  move  and  mould  a  world.  It  is  a  sphere  which,  on  the 
one  hand,  is  as  wide  ?s  the  world,  and  on  the  other  is  a  calm 
and  assured  retreat,  where  one  can  sit  down,  and  be  at  peace 
Enter,  then,  O  man  and  woman,  into  this  heritage  which  God 
himself  has  given  you ;  you  set  up  this  abode  at  the  gateway 
of  immortal  life ;  you  bring  into  it  all  that  is  best  of  your  pos- 
sessions ;  you  strive  here  to  develop  all  that  is  best  in  your- 
selves. And  we,  who  stand  by  and  rejoice  in  this  erection  of  a 
Ne.vr  Home,  behold  in  letters  of  light  this  scripture  written 
over  your  doorway:  "  Now,  therefore,  let  it  please  thee  to  bless 
the  house  of  thy  servant,  that  it  may  be  before  thee  forever ;  for 
thou  blessest,  O  Lord,  and  it  shall  be  blessed  forever." 

It  was  in  the  above  simple  little  paper  on  the  Model  Home — 
a  paper  expressing  my  most  earnest  feelings  on  my  favorite 
subject — that  for  the  only  time  in  my  life  I  became  an  author  ; 
for  my  too-indulgent  young  friends  and  relatives  fulfilled  their 
plan  of  having  it  printed  for  their  own  private  use  and  posses^ 
sion,  and  whether  or  not  in  itself  particularly  valuable,  I  trust 
they  will  find  it  precious,  because  it  embodies  for  them  some  of 
the  best  wishes  of  their 

Aunt  Sophronia. 


W 


w 


I;, 


\\\  A 


11 


!  woman  has  .been 
)here  which,  on  the 
he  other  is  a  calm 
1,  and  be  at  peace 
critage  which  God 
)de  at  the  gateway 
s  best  of  your  pos- 
it is  best  in  your- 
n  this  erection  of  a 
5  scripture  written 
Dlcase  thee  to  bless 
•e  thee  forever ;  for 

forever." 

the  Model  Home — 
gs  on  my  favorite 
became  an  author ; 
tives  fulfilled  their 
te  use  and  posses- 
ly  valuable,  I  trust 

for  them  some  of 

UNT  SOPHRONIA. 


CHAPTER    XXII, 

VALUABLE   HOME   KNOWLEDGE. 

FROM   AUNT   SOPHRONIA's   SCRAP-BOOK. 

making  Soups  for  a  family,  nice  bones,  the  trimmings  and 
fragments  of  meat,  and  a  variety  of  surplus  vegetables,  can 
be  used  to  advantage,  without  purchasing  new  material. 
So'ips  should  be  cooked  in  a  stone  pot,  or  a  china-lined  kettle. 
They  should  be  cooked  slowly,  but  for  four  or  five  hours;  skimming 
them  carefully.  Strain  through  a  coarse  colander.  Serve  with  bits 
of  toasted  bread,  chopped  egg  and  parsley,  catsup,  and  grated  cheese. 

Ml-rpiiv  Soup.— Pare  and  chop  fine  six  good-sized  potatoes;  i)ut  them  in  a  kettle 
with  about  tl"cc  pints  of  water;  se.ison  with  hmicr,  jicppcr  and  salt;  boil  until  just 
tender,  not  soft.  Just  before  serving,  l)reak  into  it  three  or  four  raw  eggs,  stirring 
briskly  to  l)reak  the  eggs  before  they  cook. 

Calk's  lli:.\n  Soup.— Take  a  skinned  head,  one  set  of  feet  well-cleaned,  put  into 
a  pot  and  cover  with  water;  let  it  boil  until  all  the  bones  Till  from  it  (about  four 
hours);  then  take  out  the  head  and  feel,  chop  very  fine  and  put  it  back  into  the  pot 
with  sweet  niarjoram,  cloves  and  black  pepper  to  your  taste ;  add  to  this,  about 
fifteen  minutes  before  taking  from  the  fire,  some  forced  me.it-balls;  should  the  soup 
be  too  thin,  add  a  little  flour  and  butler  rubbed  together;  when  done,  have  ready  in 
the  tureen  two  eggs,  boiled  hard  and  chopped  fine,  one  teacup  of  water,  and  lemon 
sliced  ;  ])(uir  the  soup  over  them. 

ECONO.M11AL  Vkai,  Soup.— Doil  a  piece  of  veal,  suit.ible  for  a  fric.issee,  pie  or 
h.wh.  When  lenuer  take  the  meat  up  and  slip  out  ilie  bones;  put  these  Imek  into 
the  kelllo  and  boil  I ,x  two  hours.  Then  strain  the  liquor  and  stand  away  until  the 
next  d.iy.  When  wanted,  take  olT  the  fat,  put  the  soup  i;iio  a  clean  pot,  add  pepper, 
«alt,  an  onion,  a  half  teacupful  of  rice,  a  lablespoonful  of  flour  mixed  in  cold  water, 
and  slices  of  potatoes.     Doil  thirty  minntcs  and  serve  hot. 

Freni-II  Soi,p.— Clean  nicely  a  sheep's  head  and  put  it  in  four  quarts  of  Iwiling 
wate.-,  which  reduce  to  two  (luails;  add  one  small  cup  of  peail  barley,  six  large 
onions  cut  up  fine,  one  sliced  carrot,  one  sliced  turnip,  a  few  cloves,  a  bunch  of 
iweet  herb-i,  jiopper,  salt  and  a  little  catsup  of  any  !  ind.  Cook  one  hour  longer 
s.ut  R.-,:,;!ig  r,!l  mgrediriits.  Sifairi  a!!  off,  cut  the  hc.id  into  the  soitp  and  kcrvd 
very  hot. 

Mu.  Gomez's  Pea  Soup.— Put  the  i)eai  into  water  and  boil  about  two  hounj 

(533) 


m 


634 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


strain  and  put  on  fire ;  add  vegetables  (not  cabbage)  and  fry  half  an  onian  to  « 
crisp  brown  ;  small  piece  of  ham ;  fry  toasted  bread  and  add  in  small  bits. 

Scotch  Broth. — Take  half  teacup  barley;  four  quarts  cold  water;  bring  to  the 
boil  and  si<im ;  put  in  now  a  neck  of  mutton  and  boil  again  for  half  an  hour;  skim 
well  the  sides,  also  the  pot ;  have  ready  two  carrots,  one  large  onion,  one  small  head 
cabbage,  one  bunch  parsley,  one  sprig  celery  tops ;  chop  all  these  fine ;  add  your 
chopped  vegetables,  jicjjper  and  salt  to  taste;  take  tvo  hours  to  cook. 

Celicry  Soup. — .Scrape  and  cut  into  small  pieces  two  bunches  of  celery,  using  the 
best  parts  only;  add  two  quarts  of  good  soup  stock,  with  an  onion  cut  into  slices, 
and  stew  gently  until  the  celery  is  tender;  put  through  a  colander,  season  with 
pepper  and  salt  and  return  to  the  fire ;  boil  up,  add  a  colfeecupful  of  boiling  milk, 
thickened  with  a  little  corn  starch  or  flour,  and  turn  at  once  into  the  tureen.  A 
trifle  of  sugar  is  thought  by  many  an  improvement,  while  a  few  bits  of  fried  bread 
put  into  the  tureen  before  pouring  ui  the  soup  are  a  nice  addition. 

RECIPES  FOR  MEATS,  FiSH  AND  GAME. 

A  Grilled  Steak.— Ingredients  :  One-half  a  poun  1  of  rump  steak,  lemon, 
pepper  and  sail,  butler  and  salad-oil.  Time  required,  about  ten  minutes.  Take  a 
small  bunch  of  parsley,  w.ish  it,  dry  it  well  in  a  cloth  and  put  it  on  a  board;  choj) 
the  parsley  up  very  fine  with  a  knife;  take  a  qu.iacr  of  an  ounce  of  butler  and  mix 
it  well  with  the  chopped  parsley;  sprinkle  over  it  pepper  and  salt  (according  to 
taste)  and  six  drops  of  lemon  juice  ;  make  it  all  \\\i  in  a  small  pat ;  t.ike  half  a 
pound  of  rump  steak,  half  an  inch  in  thickness;  pour  about  a  teaspoonful  of  salad- 
oil  upon  a  plate ;  dip  both  sides  of  the  steak  into  the  oil ;  take  a  gridiron  and  warm 
it  well  by  the  fire;  place  the  oiled  steak  on  the  gridiron,  close  to  the  fire,  to  cook 
quickly;  if  (he  meat  is  at  all  frozen  it  must  be  warmed  gradually  through  before 
putting  it  quite  near  the  fire,  or  it  will  be  tough  ;  turn  the  giidiron  with  the  steak 
occasionally;  it  will  take  from '-i  to  twelve  minutes,  according  to  the  brightness 
and  heat  of  the  lire  ;  when  ak  is  suflSciently  cooked,  place  it  on  a  hot  dish, 

and  be  careful  not  to  slick  jrk  into  the  meat  (or  the  gravy  will  run  out),  but 

into  the  fat;  take  the  pat  of  green  butter  and  put  it  on  the  steak,  spreading  it  all 
over  with  a  knife. 

Bei -rsTKAK  A  LA  I'ARisiENNE. — Take  a  piece  of  steak  about  three-quarters  of  an 
Inch  thick.  Trim  it  neatly,  sprinkle  it  with  pepper,  dip  it  in  oil  and  broil  it  over  a 
clear  fire.  Tim  it  after  it  has  been  on  the  fire  a  minute  or  two,  and  keep  turning 
it  until  done;  eight  or  ten  minutes  will  do  it.  Sprinkle  with  salt  and  serve  with  a 
small  (pianlity  of  fniely-minced  parsley  and  a  piece  of  butler  mixed  together  and 
placed  over  or  inidcr  the  steak.     Garnish  with  fried  potatoes. 

Stf.WEI)  Hek.K.steak. — Dissolve  some  bulter  in  n  slcwpan,  and  brown  the  steak 
on  liiilh  sides,  moving  it  often,  that  it  may  not  burn;  ihen  shake  in  a  lillle  (lour 
and,  when  it  is  colored,  ])our  in  gradually  sufiicient  water  to  cover  well  the  meal. 
As  soon  ns  it  boils  season  with  salt,  remove  the  scum,  slice  an  onion,  carrot  ami 
tttrnip;  add  a  bunch  of  sweet  herl>s,  and  stew  the  steak  very  gently  for  about  throe 
hours.  A  rpiarler  of  an  hour  before  you  serve,  stir  into  the  gravy  two  or  three  iia- 
spoonfuls  of  rice  flmir,  mixed  with  cayenne,  half  a  wineglassful  of  mushioom 
catraip  and  a  little  seasoning  of  spice. 

IIf.ek  I.oak. — One  and  one-half  pounds  of  beefsteak  chopped  very  fine,  and  free 
from  gri'^lle;  two  cups  of  rolled  crackers  (fine),  one  cup  of  cold  water,  one-half  CUf 
of  bulter,  salt  and  ])epper  to  suit  the  taste,  bake  till  duns. 


VALUABLE  HOME  KNOWLEDGE. 


635 


I  fry  half  an  onion  to  a 
d  in  small  bits. 

:old  water ;  bring  to  the 

for  half  an  hour;  skim 

Te  onion,  one  small  head 

II  these  fine ;  add  your 
s  to  cook. 

ithes  of  celery,  using  ihe 
in  onion  cut  into  slices, 
a  colander,  season  with 
ecupful  of  boiling  milk, 
ce  into  the  tureen.  A 
few  bits  of  fried  bread 
iition, 

I  GAME. 

of  rump  steak,  lemon, 
It  ten  minutes.  Take  a 
[lut  it  on  a  board ;  chop 
nuice  of  butter  and  nii.\ 

and  salt  (according  to 
small  pat ;   t.d<e  half  a 

a  teaspoduful  of  salad- 
ke  a  gridiron  and  warm 
:lose  to  the  (he,  to  cook 
aihially  through  before 
jiicliion  wilh  tlie  steak 
•ding  to  the  brightness 
,  place  it  on  a  hot  ciish, 
gravy  will  run  out),  hut 
e  steak,  spreading  it  all 

out  three-quarters  of  an 

II  oil  and  broil  it  over  a 
two,  and  keep  turning 
h  salt  and  serve  with  a 
er  mixed  together  and 

n,  and  brown  the  steak 
I  shake  in  a  little  flmir 
)  cover  well  the  meal. 
le  an  onion,  carrot  ami 
Y  gently  for  about  three 
gravy  two  or  three  ica- 
;glassful  of  rauslitoom 

iped  very  line,  and  free 
uld  water,  one-half  cuf 


Sti;ffed  Corned  Beef.— A  very  nice  way  of  preparing  corned  beef,  and  of 
kiaking  a  change  in  this  oft-repeated  dish,  is  to  take  a  piece  of  well-corned  rump  of 
round,  nine  or  ten  pounds;  make  several  deep  cuts  in  it;  till  with  a  stuffing  of  a 
handful  of  sor'k:d  bread,  squeezed  dry,  a  little  fat  or  butter,  a  good  pinch  of  cloves, 
allspice,  pepper,  a  little  finely-chopped  onion  and  a  little  marjoram  or  thyme;  then 
tie  it  up  tightly  in  a  cloth  and  saturate  it  with  vinegar;  boil  about  three  hours. 

Ham  BALl,s.~Chop  fine  cold  cooked  ham;  add  an  egg  for  each  person;  a  little 
flour;  beat  together;  make  iiUo  balls  and  fry  brown  in  hot  butter. 

Scotch  Hash.— Chop  raw  beef  very  fine;  add  butter,  pepper,  salt,  and  chopped 
l)arsley.  Cover  with  water,  slew  it  (well  covered)  for  fifteen  niiimles.  I'our  it  over 
slices  of  toasted  bread. 

How  TO  Cook  Hoii.ed  Salt  Pork.— Salted  pork  for  boiling  should  have  lean 
streaks  running  through  it.  Krora  such  a  piece  cut  two  pounds  or  more,  according 
to  size  of  family,  scrape  the  rind  well,  wash  clean,  then  put  it  to  boil  in  cold  soft 
\Vater;  boil  oae  hour,  then  change  the  water,  filling  up  with  boiling  water  from  the 
tea-kettle;  boil  another  hour,  then  take  it  from  tlie  water,  lay  it  on  a  tin  and  set 
in  a  well  heated  oven  to  bake  half  an  hour.  Inciine  the  tin,  letting  the  pork  rest 
in  the  upper  part,  so  that  the  grease,  as  it  fries  out,  may  drip  away  from  the  meat. 
Turn  the  pork  from  side  to  side  that  it  may  crust  nicely.  Turn  the  grease  from  the 
tin  as  it  fills  up,  so  the  por:t  will  not  rest  in  it  when  baking.  Serve"hot  and  see  if 
the  men  like  it. 

Chickem  Dresseh  as  Terrapins.- lioil  a  fine,  large,  tender  chicken;  when 
done,  and  while  yet  warm,  cut  it  from  the  bones  into  small  pieces,  as  fir  chicUea 
salad;  put  it  into  a  slew-pan  with  one  gill  of  boiling  water;  then  stir  togolhcr,  until, 
'lurfectly  smooth,  one-fourth  pound  butter,  one  teaspoon  fiour  a;ul  the  yolk  of  on« 
egg,  which  ada  to  the  chicken  half  at  a  time,  stirring  all  well  l.^geilier;  then  season 
With  salt  and  pepper.  After  letting  it  simmer  about  ten  minutes,  add  one  spoon  of 
vinegar  and  send  to  table  hot. 

Curry — Take  cold  chicken,  turkey,  or  lamb,  cut  in  small  pieces,  and  jmt  iq 
frying-pan  with  about  a  pint  or  more  boiling  water;  let  it  stew  a  few  momenls,then 
take  the  meat  out,  thicken  the  gravy  with  .i  little  (h)iM-,  a.hl  a  teaspoonful  of  curry 
powder,  pepper  and  salt  to  taste,  and  let  it  boil  up  once;  h.ive  some  rice  boiled 
whole  and  dry;  put  it  around  the  oiitsulc  of  the  i-lalUr,  mid  in  the  centre  put  the 
meat,  and  throw  the  gravy  over  the  meat,  not  the  rice,  and  serve. 

A  Nice  Way  to  Cook  Ciiukkns.— Cut  the  chicken  up,  put  il  in  a  pnn,  and 
cover  it  over  with  water;  let  it  slew  as  usii.l,  and  when  d,)ne,  make  a  thickening 
of  cream  and  flour,  adding  a  piece  of  bulter,  and  pepper  an<l  salt;  have  made  and 
linked  a  piir  of  short-cakes,  made  as  for  pie-cnisl,  but  roll  thin,  and  ciil  in  smalt 
sipiares.  This  is  much  belter  than  chicken  pie,  and  nnue  simple  to  make.  The 
crusts  should  be  laid  on  a  dish,  and  ihe  chicken  gravy  put  over  wliile  both  ar'>  hot. 
Miss  Dods'  Way  of  BoIMNO  Flsll.— The  lecturer  fir-l  plunged  the  fish  ('  ':.\n\i\ 
into  boiling  w.ater,  remarking  that  small  fish  shoul.l  be  first  phmged  into  col,  N,„er. 
She  then  put  into  the  water  a  jiinch  of  sail  and  a  tablcspoonfiil  of  vinegar.  "  In 
boiling  the  fish,"  said  the  lecturer,  "  it  ilepends  on  its  thickness  as  to  llie  lime  it 
should  lie  boiled.     The  instant  the  fish  slips  from  the  bone  it  is  ready.     Wliile  il  ia 

-  '    ■' —         '  ■  •'— --   '•"^  ~'U<e  ivit-s  L>oU3  looK  two  iioiieu  cg'4s,  3 

dcsserlspooidul  of  parsley,  an  ounce  of  bulter,  half  an  ounce  of  flour,  n  y\\\  of   ■ 
milk,  a  gill  of  cream  and  a  little  pepper  and  salt.    The  dry  parsley  was  then  choppeU 


'!  I. '  t 


636 


Tim  COMPLETE  HOME. 


fine.  The  eggs  were  boiled  for  ten  minutes  and  thrown  into  cold  water.  The 
yolks  were  then  removed  and  cat  into  halves.  "  The  sauce  is  really  drawn  butter  " 
remarked  the  lectu'-er.  * 

Fowls  or  meats  when  boiled  should  always  be  put  into  boiling 
water— not  cold,  unless  the  purpose  is  to  make  soup— and  they  should 
boil  very  slowly;  hard  boiling  makes  them  tough,  and  putting  into 
cold  water  makes  them  tasteless. 

Ragout  of  TuRKEV.-Cut  the  cold  turkey  that  is  left  over  from  a  roast,  or  boil 
iHlo  bits  an  inch  long;  put  into  a  saucepan  the  gravy  left  from  the  roast,  adding  a 
httle  water  if  the  quantity  be  small;  add  a  tablcspoonful  of  butter, a  teaspoonful  of 
some  pungent  sauce,  half  ^  teaspoonful  of  cloves,  a  little  grated  nutmeg  and  a  little 
salt;  when  it  boils  up  put  in  the  meat;  stew  very  gently  for  ten  minxes,  and  then 
stir  in  a  tablcspoonful  of  cranberry  or  currant  jcily,  a  teaspoonful  of  browned  flour 
wet  m  a  little  cold  water  and  a  wineglassful  of  strong  lemonade;  boil  up  once 
and  serve  in  a  covered  dish.  A  ragout  without  spice,  jelly  or  wine  is  generally 
preferred. 

Stewed  Turkey.— An  old  turkey  is  more  tender  stewed  than  when  cooked  in 
any  other  way.  Put  into  a  large  pot  half  a  pound  of  bacon  cut  in  slices,  a  quarter 
of  a  pound  of  knuckle  of  veal,  three  sprigs  of  parsley,  two  of  thyme,  >^ix  small 
onions,  one  cirrot  cut  in  sm.ill  pieces,  three  cloves,  salt  and  pepper,  and  then  the 
turkey;  add  a  pint  e.ich  of  broth  and  w.ater;  cover  as  closely  as  possible,  and 
simmer  gently  about  two  hours  and  a  half;  then  turn  the  turkey  over  and  put  it 
back  on  the  fire  for  another  two  hours  and  a  half;  dish  the  turkey;  strain  the  sauce; 
put  it  back  on  the  fire,  ami  after  reducing  it  to  a  glaze  spread  it  over  the  tuikey  and 
serve.     .Some  prefer  stewed  turkey  when  told. 

CmcKE.N  I'UDniNc:.-Cut  up  as  for  fric.issee  and  parboil,  seasoning  well  wiih 
pepper,  salt  and  a  lump  of  butter,  size  of  an  egg  to  each  chicken.  The  fowl  should 
be  young  and  tender,  aiul  divided  at  every  joint.  .Stew  slowly  fi,r  half  an  hour- 
take  them  out,  and  1,-iy  ihem  on  a  fl.it  dish  to  cool ;  set  aside  the  water  in  which  ihey 
were  slewed  for  your  gravy.  Make  a  batter  of  one  quart  of  milk,  three  cups  flour 
three  tablespoons  melted  l)ut[er,  one-half  teaspoon  soda  and  one  spoonful  cieam' 
taibr,  four  eggs,  well  beaten,  and  a  little  salt.  I'ut  a  Layer  of  chicken  in  the  bottom 
of  the  dish,  and  |)our  about  one-half  cupful  of  batter  over  it,  enough  to  conceal  the 
meat;  then  another  layer  of  chicken  and  more  batter  till  the  di^h  is  fidl.  The 
batter  must  form  the  crust,  li.ike  one  hour  in  a  moderate  oven.  Ueat  up  an  egg 
and  stir  it  in  the  gravy  which  was  set  aside.  Thicken  with  two  teaspoons  flour, 
boil  up  and  send  to  table  in  a  gravy  dish. 

11ROII.KI)  l"ARTRli)<;E.-If  the  birds  are  tender,  split  them  open  at  the  back  and 
broil  whole;  but  if  not  young,  use  only  the  breasts  for  broiling,  reserving  the  other 
portions  for  c  slew,  or  to  help  toward  making  a  game  pie.  Use  as  little  water  as 
possible  in  cleansing  game;  many  use  none  «t  all,  thinking  that  by  the  use  of  water 
the  blood,  and,  conscpiently,  the  flavor,  is  washed  aw.iy  and  the  meat  left  dry  and 
tasteless.  Dip  the  porlions  to  be  liroiled  in  melted  butter,  and  broil  over  a  steady 
ire  of  live  r;.;:!.;,  tiiniir,;;  ,,fien,  atu!  har.iing  in  the  hot  bullci  once  or  iwice  during 
the  cooking,     lie  careful  not  to  cook  them  overdone.     Place  on  a  hot  platter/ 


0  cold  water.  The 
eally  drawn  butter," 

put  into  boiling 
-and  they  siiould 
md  putting  into 


rom  a  roast,  or  boil 
the  roast,  adding  a 
ler,  a  teaspooiiful  of 
nutmeg  and  a  little 
minutes,  and  then 
il  of  browned  flour 
ade;  boil  up  once, 
jr  wine  is  generally 

an  when  cooked  in 
in  slices,  a  quarter 
f  thyme,  fix  small 
pper,  and  then  the 
y  as  possible,  and 
key  over  and  put  it 
f,  strain  the  sauce; 
iver  the  turkey  and 

easoning  well  with 
The  fowl  should 
f  for  half  an  hour; 
I'ater  in  which  they 
k,  three  (•u|>s  flour, 
ne  spoonful  cream 
cken  in  the  bottom 
ugh  to  conceal  the 
dish  is  full.  The 
.  Beat  up  an  egg 
o  teaspoons   flour, 

in  nt  the  hack  and 
escrving  the  other 
as  little  water  as 
y  the  Use  of  water 
meat  kfi  tlry  and 
)r(iil  over  a  steady 
e  or  twice  during 
on  a  hot  platter/ 


VALUABLE  HOME  KNOWLEDGE.  go- 

sprinkle  pepper  and  salt  and  pour  a  little  melted  butter  over  each  ni,>r. .  ,>.       . 
.he  surface  lightly  with  chopped  parsley  and  arrange  a  few  si      so  Tern  T 

p.eces.  i;arn,sh  the  edges  of  the  dish  with  triangle  ob"  J  '"  '' 
spoonfuls  of  currant  jelly;  or  place  the  toast  und  he  b  .ds  and  "  V  f!  """ 
and  j^ly  on  .„„  ,r  them.  For  breakfast  fried  mush  nrayl  uh  L  ed  ft'  T" 
and  a  border  of  shoo-fly  or  Saratoga  potatoes  around  the  dish  ""  '""'' 

Salmi  of  Wild  Duck.— First,  partly  roast  the  dud-  •  r,,^  ;,'  •  .    •  • 
put  refuse  bits  of  fat  or  skin  into  'a'^.auc'epan  with  1  c^^      'g  a"  "C^"  'r  "^ 
in  butter;  pepper  and  salt  to  taste,  a  pinch  of  cloves  and  nuS'n     ?  "* 

and  sage  chopped  fine.    Boi,  one  hour,  .skim  when    o"  ttn  to  ^'^  """^*"''"" 

w.th  a  p.ece  of  butter  the  si.e  of  a  walnut;  thicken  with    rlwed  flour     ,7^'.'"'; 
afewmmutes;   put  in  the  pieces  of  duck,  after  which  it  mu  t  noM     .  , 

saucepan  should  he  placed  in  a  dish  of  boiling  water       .IXeadt        '      \  '  " 

^2^cr  r -ihi'g^-^:;  -  - '  ^-  -S-z  ::;^ 

and  a  spoonful  of  .urrant  jelly  on  each  qu'aiUnd  serve  immedia^JC 

In  frying  meat  or  fowl,  always  put  it  into  a  hot  pan,  where  the  fat 
IS  already  very  hot. 

FISH. 

Roasted  Codfish.— For  roasiinir  take  a  smnll  r,»=K      j    , 
the  head  and   tail.     Split  the  fish  c le\n  It  we    '      ,     "'''."""  "  *^"-     C"'  ^^ 
some  cayenne  and  a  lit'tle  fine  s.   ,  '  Z.  la,    «  t'h    T't  "  ?'""'  ^''""^'*^  ^^'"^ 
or  a  little  larger,  than  will  hold  .he  frs    :;e     'ou        ^    "tZx       I  'T  '^"""«'' 
a  clear,  hot  fire  till  the  whole  niece  of  nl  nt  \         "''  "''  ""^  ''"•^«'  '^^■'■"'■« 

take  care  not  to  allow  it  to  catch  f^e  Th'  ","'"'  •'"''  ="'""^'  '^•'"-''  =  '"" 
to  the  board  with  four  sp  ,,!;,•  J^;' ^r^''  -"he  fish  evenly  and  tack  it 
Place  the  insi.le  of  the  coS  „ex     hi  fi  .     "'  *°  '"^  ^""'^"^  ^"^^"  ""'  "R^i"- 

has  been  well  heate     wi      o  k  U   h        I      .     "  '"•^'  ""'  "'"^  ''°--'^^''  -"ich,  if  it 

oughly  done  take  it  up   l"  1 1  !l   -  '^'""''  "       "'""  '"'  ""  "'^'  "  '^  "•"»• 

the  board,  the  ends  of'  wi:,;':  ri::  /[IVl';:''-  '^"'  '  '°  '"^  '"'"^  "" 
«ort.  to  prevent  injury  ,o  the  cLh    T,r  i^^'"*^'' "''""''''''"« ''^ '''^^^ 

li.tle  butter  an.l  cayenne  only      Th  U"  .  *''"''  '"''  °^  '"'^''■^■^"«-  "^  ^^'''h  « 

.  rresh  shad  in  J.^Z^^  .ij:  ^ ^^IT  "^7''  T''^  ^""^'"« 
at  the  furnishing  stores.  '     ^''^hhoards  can  be  obtained 

or  ":;:;;:;:  ''"r:;";;;';:;::!.;!;;:;  --  very  appet^ng  when  boned  ,ike  salmo„ 
thefi>h:  «Hd  a  teaslj  ;:;;;.  :'",T'  '"'"  '^"""«'  »--""« -"ter  to  eve, 
-rawn  butter  gravs'  Z      "/,        "     '°''  '•/  '''""'y'"'  ""■"»'-•     Serve  with  , 

p-ng  the  biin  i-i  ri^:  :7:r"L;^^r;L;^':::--""  ^'i"-' '- 
^::d  ab^^'r  ^z  ^ """ '" '''  -'-'  -  ^^- -^'^c  li  ':z^z 


im 


538 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


Boston  Fish  Balls. — Half  a  pound  cold  fish,  three  ounces  suet,  shred  fine,  x 
«niall  lump  of  butter,  a  teacupful  of  bread  crumbs,  pepper,  salt  and  nutmeg,  and 
two  teaspoonfuls  of  anchovy  sauce.  Pound  all  together  in  a  mortar,  mix  with  an 
egg,  divide  into  small  c.ikes  and  fry  them  a  little  brown. 

Frieu  Oysters. — Select  the  largest  and  finest  oysters.  Have  ready  a  skillet  of 
boiling  lard.  Dip  your  oysters,  one  at  a  time,  in  beaten  yolk  of  egg,  then  in  grated 
bread  crumbs,  lastly  in  sifted  meal  and  then  drop  into  the  lard.  Turn,  and  allow 
them  to  become  only  slightly  browned.     Drain  upon  a  sieve  and  send  to  table  hot. 

Stewed  Oysters. — Drain  the  liquor  from  two  quarts  of  firm,  plump  oysters,  mix 
with  it  a  small  teacup  of  hot  water,  add  a  little  salt  and  pepper,  and  set  over  the  fire 
in  a  saucepan.  When  it  boils,  add  a  large  cupful  of  rich  milk.  Let  it  boil  up  once, 
•idd  the  oysters,  let  them  boil  five  minutes.  When  they  ruffle,  add  two  tablespoons 
butter,  and  the  instant  it  is  melted,  and  well  stirred  in,  take  off  the  fire. 

Oysti'.r  Macaroni. — Boil  macaroni  in  a  cloth  to  keep  it  straight.  Put  a  layer  in 
a  dish  seasoned  with  butter,  salt  and  pepper,  then  a  layer  of  oysters;  alternate  until 
the  dish  is  full.  Mix  some  grated  bread  with  a  beaten  egg,  spread  over  the  top  and 
bake. 

Oyster  Patties. — Make  puff  paste  in  this  way:  To  every  pound  of  flour  add 
three-quarters  of  a  pound  of  butler,  the  yolk  of  one  egg;  use  ice-cold  water;  chop 
half  the  butter  into  the  flour,  then  stir  in  the  egg;  work  all  into  a  dough;  roll  but 
thin;  spread  on  some  of  the  butter,  fold  closely  (butter  side  in)  and  roll  again;  do  this 
until  the  butter  is  all  used  up;  keep  the  paste  in  a  cold  place  while  you  prepare  the 
oysters.  Set  the  oysters  on  the  stove  in  a  saucepan,  with  liquid  enough  to  cover 
them;  as  soon  as  they  come  to  a  boil  skim  them;  slir  in  a  little  butter  and  pepper; 
also,  if  desired,  a  little  cream.  Line  your  small  tins  with  youi  paste ;  put  three  or  , 
four  oysters  in  each,  add  a  little  of  the  liquor,  then  cover  with  paste;  bake  in  a 
quick  oven  twenty  minutes ;  while  hot  wash  ov^r  the  top  with  a  beaten  egg,  using 
a  swab  or  brush,  and  set  in  the  oven  a  minute  or  two  to  glaze. 

Oysters  may  be  more  plainly  fried,  by  merely  rolling  them  well  in 
corn  meal  and  laying  them  in  the  hot  fat.  Do  not  let  them  lie  long 
in  the  frying-pan.  When  clams  are  fried,  the  hard  portion  should  be 
thrown  away,  as  it  is  indigestible.  Fish  should  be  cooked  slowly  and 
thoroughly :  it  is  clone  when  it  parts  readily  from  the  bone.  Salt  fish 
should  be  well  washed  in  one  water  and  put  to  soak,  skin  upWixrds,  in 
a  second  water.  Fish  and  oysters  should  always  be  dressed  with 
parsley  and  hard-boiler!  eggs  chopped  fine.  ^1  boiled,  serve  dry,  laid 
on  a  folded  napkin,  thi  sauce  being  in  a  sauce-boat.  If  fried,  take 
care  to  have  a  nice,  even  brown,  with  no  burned  and  no  white  spots. 

VEGETABLES. 

Potatoes. — A  common  dish  for  common  people  many  think,  especially  if  cooked 
mipcfictl.  Not  if  you  ?'.rir,w  h-w  to  o-.--k  th<-ni,  Msny  p.enple  hnil  them  in  ?.  great 
pnt  of  water,  and  then  let  thrm  stand  in  that  w-iter  after  they  are  cooked.    Always 


■■■■■H 


i  suet,  shred  fine,  s 
;  and  nutmeg,  and 
nortar,  mix  with  an 

e  ready  a  skillet  of 
egg,  then  in  grated 
.  Turn,  and  allow 
1  send  to  table  hot. 
plump  oysters,  mix 
and  set  over  the  fire 
Let  it  boil  up  once, 
idd  two  tablespoons 
he  fire. 

ght.  Put  a  layer  in 
;ers ;  alternate  until 
ad  over  the  top  and 

pound  of  flour  add 
e-cold  water;  chop 
)  a  dough  ;  roll  but 
d  roll  again ;  do  this 
lile  you  prepare  the 
d  enough  to  cover 
butter  and  pepper ; 
paste ;  put  three  or  , 
h  paste ;  bake  in  a 
a  beaten  egg,  using 


ing  them  well  in 
let  them  lie  long 
ortion  should  be 
loked  slowly  and 
:  bone.  Salt  fish 
skin  upiuanls,  in 
be  dressed  with 
i,  serve  dry,  laid 
.  If  fried,  take 
1  no  white  spots. 


especially  if  cooked 
hnil  them  in  a  gr'.'at 
re  cooked.     Alwap 


VALUABLE  HOME  KNOWLEDGE.  Kor 

Jry  to  have  potatoes  of  uniform  size,  cut  out  any  rough  places  made  by  moles  or  worms 
place  them  m  a  pot  and  merely  cover  with  water-  keen  the  li,l  ,  ,   ,  , 

the.  stop  boiling.     Boil  fifteen^r  twenty  minu't:::  u'^irio        CTff  t^t^ 

s::t3-s:ir:aS '°  ^^^— -----  ^^ 

would   test  its  virtues.     Of  course,  we  were   ple.se  I  to  .!i  '  '•  '  """ 

housekee,ng  treasure  ho.  and  so  listened  ^th  ^Int^l     ii::;^,:::r  .^  Z 
formula  of  the  new  discovery,  and   this  was  the  way  of  it  •    Trim  V      ,  ! 

cabbage,  cut  in  half  and  put  it  to  cook  in  cold  w.te      1,!  i     '  :,     ^     '""''"""";"' 
pour  ofif  the  water  and  refill  with   iK-ilin;    v^       /om   .        i''^ 
minutes   lon^r,  then  take   the  cabb.ge  l^m  .U.  IZ^XJ^^^r^l^Zl 

eason  U  wuh  pepper,  salt  and  butter,  to  taste.  Beat  together  tvo  fr  4  Z  a^d' 
four  spoonfuls  of  sweet  cream,  add  them  to  the  seasoned  catl.nge  and  s.ir  ai  o^eth  . 
Butter  a  pudd„,g.d.sh  and  put  the  cal,bage  in  and  bake  in  a  wjl-heated  ove  Uwentv 
minutes,  or  untd  it  is  browned  over  the  top.  *  ^ 

Fried  CAnnACE.-Cut  obbage  very  fine,  on  a  slaw-cutter,  if  possible-   salt  and 
pepper  s.,r  well  and  let  stand  five  minutes. ,  Have  an  iron  k^t.e  smoli  g'  hit  dp 

send  to  table  immediately.     One-half  cup  sweet  cream,  and  tbree  tablespoons  viV 
egar     the  vinegar  to  be  added  after  the  cream  h..s  been  well  stirred,      <       t  4      s 

eat  It,  and  there  IS  no  ofl-ensive  odor  from  cooking  it  >val.a  can 

COOK.NC  OMONS  -The  best  way  we  have  foun'd  to  cook  onions  is  to  put  them  io 
b  U  in  soft  water,  letting  them  boll  briskly  till  tender.     Have  ready  heate  1  a  cup 
o    sweet  cream   seasoned   with   butter,  pepper  and  salt;  dip  the  on  Ins  Aonr    Se 
.bug  water  into  the  heated  cream,  taking  ca^e  that  as  mucl  of  the  wate.  in  v^h  ch 
I    y  were  cooked  shall  drain  out  as  possilv     ..fore  putting  into  the  creamrthen 

0;:.';  t,?e"r;"""^'  '";  ""^^•^^"■'"  ■■  ''— ^eteathsofuilyaswhe; 
cook  d   M,  the  usual  way,  and  are  not  as  liable  .0  rise  on  the  stoma.h.     In  taking 

he  sUius  o^  stand  by  an  open  window  or  door,  and  there  will  be  no  cau.e  .0  tears 
to  now.  as  the  ctirrent  of  air  in  passing  takes  the  pungent  odor  of  the  onion  with  it. 

hu  g,v,ng  relief  to  the  eye.  For  medium-sized  onions  allow  one  hour's  time  f.^ 
\t\j'  'Kin  i', 

HoTKL  I'oN,.;.s._Take  one  pint  of  fine  Indian  meal  and  on-,  pint  of  milk-  melt 
one  tablespoonful  of  butter  ami  add  ,0  it ;  beat  two  eggs  very  l.gln ;  one  ,easp;o:W      . 

tJtat  all  hard  and  bake  in  a  quick  oven. 

Cakrots  roR  D,NNER._VVash.  scrape,  let  lie  in  cold  w.ater  for  an  hour  or  more, 
the,.  b,nl  until  tender ;  dnin,  mash,  season  with  a  good-sized  piece  of  butter;  peppe, 
and  salt  and  serve  very  hot.  >  f  fl^' 

iru..,  Ku  CORN.-Take  white  corn,  if  you  can  get  it;  none  but  plump  corn  ;  shell 
«na  bod  It  in  we.ak  lye  until  the  hull  is  broken  ;  then  clean  offthe  lye,  fill  the  kettle. 
or  turn  the  corn  into  a  dish-nan:  take  yo„r  h.nds  and  rub  the  corn  well;  wash  in 
sever.)  waters  (ihe  ol.l  w.ay  is  nine  times,  but  six  will  do);  then  clean  your  kettle 
ana  return  to  .he  stove;  put  in  plenty  of  water  and  boil  until  very  tender,  which 


■'■'«i 


# 


"I 


a 


540 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


usually  takes  almost  the  entire  day.  As  the  water  boils  away  add  more.  It  H 
better  to  add  hot  water  than  cold. 

To  lioiL  Rice  Propkrly. — To  every  cup  of  ric^  one  quark  of  water;  salt  to 
laste.  Let  the  water  boil  hard  ;  then  throw  in  rice  previously  well  washed ;  when 
it  begins  to  boil  do  not  allow  it  to  be  stirred,  and  boil  twenty  minutes,  not  touching 
it;  pour  off  any  water  remaining;  place  the  saucepan  on  back  of  range,  partially 
covered,  for  a  few  minutes;  when  turned  out  into  the  dish  for  the  table  each  grain 
will  be  found  separate.  The  rice  should  steam  on  back  of  range  until  it  appears 
dry  on  top,  then  shaken  out  into  the  dish,  not  removed  with  the  si)oon. 

Barley  is  a  cheap,  palatable,  wholesome  addition  to  our  bill  of  fare.  Boil  it 
three  or  four  hours,  in  a  china-lined  or  new  tin  vessel ;  serve  with  milk  and  sugar, 
or  r;ierely  salted  to  eat  with  gravy.  Cold  boiled  b.irley  is  excellent  rolled  with  flour 
into  croquettes  and  fried. 

Bean  Polenta. — Wash  common  white  beans,  put  them  into  cold  water  and  let 
them  boil  about  three  hours,  until  soft  and  meal^- ;  for  every  two  quarts  of  boiled 
beans,  take  three  tab^spoons  molasses,  one  teaspoon  salt,  one  teaspoon  mustard,  one 
tablespoon  olive  oil  or  butler,  one-half  teaspoon  pepper,  two  tablespoons  vinegar; 
stir  these  in  thoroughly  and  cook  for  ten  minutes.  The  beans,  when  done,  should 
be  quite  dry.  Take  great  care  not  to  scorch  them.  Beans  are  never  so  goo<l 
dressed  in  any  other  way. 

Bean  Croquettes. — Take  the  above,  when  cold,  mould  into  croquettes  with  egg 
and  flour,  and  fry  to  a  fine  brown ;  they  are  delicious. 

Breakfast  Potatoes. — Slice  cold  potatoes  fine ;  season ;  have  in  a  pan  a  cup 
of  good  meat  gravy  left  from  yesterday's  dinner,  turn  the  potatoes  therein,  and  stir 
for  five  minutes.  * 

Potatoes  au  Creme. — Slice  cold  potatoes  fine;  have  in  a  tin  pan  half  a  cup 
of  nice  milk,  half  a  teaspoon  of  salt,  a  lump  of  butter  the  size  of  a  walnut,  a  little 
pepper,  a  little  parsley,  if  liked ;  as  soon  as  the  milk  scalds  turn  in  the  potatoes 
and  let  them  cook,  stirring  continually  until  they  are  nearly  dry. 

Eggplant. — Soak  the  peeled  slices  for  one  hour  in  salt  water,  then  fry  brown  in 
hot  lard  or  dripping. 

Fried  Sweet  Potatoes. — Take  cold  sweet  potatoes  and  slice  thin;  have  in  a 
fryins;-pan  a  large  tablespoon  of  butter  hot,  or  mixed  lard  and  butter ;  put  the 
potatoes  in,  sprinkle  them  with  a  tablespoon  of  sugar,  and  keep  stirring  until  well 
cooked.     Never  use  pepper  and  salt  in  dressing  a  sweet  potato. 

.Squash  of  the  patty-pan  variety  can  be  cooked  exactly  as  egg-plant. 

Spinach  is  better  steamed  done  than  when  put  in  water. 

All  vegetables  should  be  put  into  boiling  water  which  has  salt  in  it, 
and  the  water  should  not  be  allowed  to  stop  boiling,  as  this  makes 
them  watery.  All  vegetables,  such  as  squash,  carrots  and  turnips, 
which  are  to  be  inashed,  should  be  drained  well  in  a  colander,  then 
dressed  with  butter,  pepper,  salt  and  a  little  milk. 

Tomatot:-,  _Tf  thrre  arc  r,  hnndrod  w,-iy=;  r.f  rr,okirtg  eg^s,  there  tire  as  many  fof 
cooking  tom.-itocs.  When  they  are  brought  to  the  table  raw  the  skins  should  nH 
kave  been  scalded  off:  if  served  raw  they  must  be  washed  in  cold  water;  and  when 


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Id  more.    It  i1 


juettes  wilh  egg 


en  fry  brown  in 


541 

iliced  set  on  ice  for  a  few  minutes,  or  in  a  very  cold  <:nrin    i, 

sliced  with  cucumbers  and  onions,  ^  cucumbe7s  "Zr^''"'''''''-     ^"^^  =^^^  "- 

Stkwkd,  they  should  have  their  skins  scalded  oft'.  c,<.     •    .u  • 
out  added  water,  for  fifteen  minutes;  then  add  butter's  '"  °,7  ^""'  "'"^• 

See  like  the  addition  of  sugar,  or  io  thicke.'  tC  w^th  Ho^r ''         ''''^'--'^'- 

1;RY  r,pe  tomatoes  in  butter ;  dress  with  cream,  heated        ' 

with  melted  butter  ""^  ''''^«"  minutes,  basting 

for  five  mi.utes  and  serv^     The  con's i  '^"[■■y  f^^''«^^  o-"  ^esh  mustard,  stir 

This  is  a  delicious  dish  "'""^  '*''°"''  "^^  "^»'  "^  -^Il-boiled  rice. 

Green  Tomatoes  cut  in  slices    snai-o,i  r 

made  into  sweet  pickle,  are  del  c'ious       M  T    T     °""  '"  ^^'^  ^^="^^  ""'^  "-" 
peaches.  °"'-      ^'^''^^  "'^  «^"'  P'ckle  as  for  pears  or 

Baked  To.matoes  should  be  reeled  and  r.rPnor«^      r 
with  bread-crumbs,  and  covered  wel    on len'l,",  ^°'"  f'^"'"^'  '^^  -«"  -'"d 
butter,  bake  three-quarters  of  an  lour  '  ""'  '^^"'^■""-''  -'I  P'-es  of 

Cucumbers  should  be  sliced  in  silt  woto.-  f  l        ,    , 

with  vinegar,  mustard,  pepper  and  stThev""  "  f°"  "^'"^'  "''^"  "^^^' 

onions.     A  large  cucumber    Lfl;  ^  "■■'  '"°'''  wholesome  if  sliced  with 

as  egg-plant  anTi:;^^^;      "'Sutbr  aT  tlr^  ''''  ^"'"^l'  ^^"  "^  ''''' 
pickle,  but  the  quarters  musf  be  soakej^niglt  fn'LuTateT  "^"""'  "^  ™ 

In  the  spring  use  freely  ^..«..  as  beet  or  turnip  greens,  dande- 
lions spinach,  very  young  m///^.^ee^,  lamb's  quarters,  etc.  Also  eat 
asp.  a^us  freely:  it  is  a  nervine. 

SIDE-DISHES. 

Pu?anTe!''/'r''^''f' ''''•~°'""'''  '^  ^'"^  "'<=«  P^^P^'^d  "'e  following  way 
Put  a  piece  of  butter  the  size  of  .n  hickory  nut  and  a  teaspoonful  of  salt  in  th  eeS 

.t  rr   fr^'";  '"V  °""''^''  P'"'  °'  -'"-•'  *■-  '-  -inutes  let       o  ,C 

stirrilgVcc^iX.  ■     '"''="  °"^  ""  "'''"  ''  ^"'  °"'^  "-^ 

cnrrhTo'^r'"''';'"""''   ^^    "^"^  •'y  P'-'^'^S-   ^^^^-^  -^  conng  apples 
enough  to  fi  1  a  very  deep  pan;  put  in  a  little  cold  water-a  cupful  perhaps-^„d 

until  mnm.-n      "u  '•  u  '  "'       '''^''  ^'°™  ""=  "*"="  '"'I  'e'  "  Stand  covered 


f. ;  ■ 


4'H 


•i 


542 


TJ/E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


ii 


Macaroni  a  L'Italienne.— Take  one-fourth  pound  macaroni,  boil  it  in  watct 
until  tender ;  thiclvcn  one-half  pint  milk  with  two  tablespoons  flour ;  add  two  table- 
sp  )ons  cream,  one-lialf  tablespoon  mustard,  a  little  white  pepper  and  salt ;  stir  in  this 
one-half  pound  grated  cheese;  boil  altogether  a  few  minutes;  add  the  macaroni, 
boil  ten  minutes.     This  is  the  mode  adopted  at  the  best  tables  in  Florence. 

Queen's  Toast.— Cut  thick  slices  of  baker's  bread  into  rounds  or  squares  and  fry 
to  a  nice  brown  in  butter  or  lard.  Dip  each  piece  quickly  into  boiling  water, 
sprinkle  with  powdered  sugar  and  cinnamon,  and  pile  one  upon  the  other.  Serve 
with  a  s.iuce  made  of  powdered  sugar  dissolved  in  the  juice  of  a  lemon  and  a  little 

hot  water. 

A  Dish  for  Breakfast.— Take  six  good  cooking  apples,  cut  them  in  slices  one- 
fourth  of  an  inch  thick,  have  a  pan  of  fresh  hot  lard  ready,  drop  the  slices  in  and 
fry  till  brown  ;  sprinkle  a  little  sugar  over  them  and  serve  hot. 

Eggs  au  Gratin.— Cut  some  hard-boiled  eggs  in  slices,  lay  them  on  a  well- 
buttered  dish;  next,  put  a  large  spoonful  of  white  sauce  into  a  stewpan,  with  two 
ounces  of  Parmesan  cheese,  a  small  piece  of  butter,  the  yolks  of  two  or  three  eggs 
and  a  little  pejiper.  Stir  over  the  fire  till  it  begins  to  thicken,  pour  it  over  the  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  sprinkle  bread-crumbs  over  all,  put  the  dish  in  the  oven,  and  serve  as 
soon  as  the  contents  begin  to  color. 

Astor  House  Rolls.—'  .to  two  quarts  of  flour  put  pieces  of  butter  the  size  of 

n  egg,  a  little  salt,  one  tablespoonful  of  white  sugar,  one  pint  of  milk,  scalded  and 

dd  while  warm ;  half  a  cup  of  yeast,  or  one  small  cake  ;  when  the  sponge  is  light, 

nould  for  tifteen  minutes;   let  it  rise  again,  roll  out,  cut  into  round  cakes;   when 

light,  flatten  with  the  hand  or  rolling  pin ;  place  a  piece  cf  butter  on  top  and  fold 

each  over  itself;  when  light,  bake  it  in  a  quick  oven. 

Stewed  Macaroni.— Break  the  macaroni  into  pieces  an  inch  long,  throw  them 
into  boiling  water.  Boil  half  an  hour,  and  drain.  Put  into  a  stew-pan  a  pint 
of  cream,  an  ounce  of  butter,  one  veil-beaten  egg,  pepper  and  salt.  Stir  over  a 
clear  fire  till  it  thickens,  but  do  not  boil ;  add  the  macaroni,  boil  five  minutes,  and 
serve  hot. 

Apples  and  Bacon.— Cut  some  nice  sweet  bacon  ir  j  thin  slices,  and  fry  almost 
to  a  crispness.  Have  prepared  some  greenings,  pared,  cored  and  sliced,  and  fry  in 
the  fat  left  in  the  pan  from  the  bacon.  The  bacon  should  be  kept  hot  until  the 
apples  are  ready,  when  they  should  be  taken  and  placed  upon  the  slices  of  meat. 

A  Relish  for  Breakfast.— Take  one-half  pound  of  fresh  cheese,  cut  it  in 
thin  slices,  put  it  in  a  frying-pan,  turning  over  it  a  large  cupful  sweet  milk;  add 
one-fourth  teaspoonful  dry  mustard,  a  pinch  of  salt  and  pepper,  and  a  piece  of  butter 
the  size  of  a  butternut;  stir  the  mixture  all  the  time.  Roll  three  Boston  crackers 
very  fine  and  sprinkle  it  gradually,  and  then  turn  at  once  into  a  warm  dish  ;  to  be 
s.'nt  to  the  table  immediately. 

Scalloped  Eggs.— Boil  five  or  six  eggs  hard ;  chop  them  up  roughly,  make  a 
white  sauce,  and  mix  all  up  together.  Well  butter  and  bread-crumb  the  scallop 
shell,  put  in  a  layer  of  chopped  egg,  then  a  layer  of  bread-crumbs  and  butter  alter- 
nately until  the  shell  is  full.  Finish  with  bread-crumbs  on  the  top,  and  bake  a 
light  brown. 

Chocolate. — Scrape  two  sticks  of  chocolate  and  boil  it  in  half  a  cup  nt  water. 
Stir  to  a  smooth  paste.  Sweeten  a  pint  of  milk  with  loaf-sugar,  and,  when  boiling, 
pour  on  to  the  chocolate  and  let  it  boil  together  a  few  seconds,  stirring  it  well. 


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i,  boil  it  in  watct 
r;  add  l\vo  talilc- 
id  salt ;  stir  in  tliis 
xdd  the  macaroni, 
""loreiice. 

or  squares  and  fry 
nto  boiling  water, 
the  other.  Serve 
lemon  and  a  little 

hem  in  slices  onc- 
1  the  slices  in  and 

r  them  on  a  well- 
stewpan,  with  two 
'  two  or  three  eggs 
ir  it  over  the  hard- 
oven,  and  serve  as 

butter  the  size  of 
milk,  scalded  and 
he  sponge  is  light, 
lund  cakes;  when 
er  on  top  and  fold 

» long,  throw  them 

a  stew-pan  a  j '.nt 

.  salt.     Stir  over  a 

five  minutes,  and 

ces,  and  fry  almost 
d  sliced,  and  fry  in 
kept  hot  until  the 
I  slices  of  meat. 
1  cheese,  cut  it  in 
1  sweet  milk ;  add 
id  a  piece  of  butter 
ee  Boston  crackers 
I  warm  dish  ;  to  be 

ip  roughly,  make  a 
■crumb  the  scallop 
bs  and  butter  alter- 
le  top,  and  bake  a 

ilf  s  Clip  nt  water, 
and,  when  boiling, 
ds,  stirring  it  well. 


543 


Rer^-e  n«med,ately.  Some  persons  prefer  a  little  water  instead  of  all  n,iik- 
hu-eeten  a  httie  cream  and  whip  to  a  froth,  and  place  on  the  top  of  each  cup 

loNcirE  TOAST.-Take  cold  boiled  tongue,  mince  i,  fine,  n,ix  it  wita  crean.,  anc! 
to  every  alf  p.nt  of  the  mixture  allow  the  well-beaten  yolks  of  two  eggs.  P  e 
over  the  fire,  and  let  tt  simmer  a  minute  or  two.  Have  ready  some  nicely  toasted 
bread  ;  butter  ,t,  place  on  a  hot  dish  and  pour  the  mixture  over      Send  to  .L."  l,ot 

LAKED  Locs.-IIave  hot  meat  gravy  in  a  pie-dish,  break  in  the  e-s-  b.ke 
fifteen  minutes.  "c  <.t,oS,  oane 

,nn';n"r',^  ToA3T.-Cook  three  ounces  of  fine  cut  cheese,  one  well-beaten  egg,  ore 

rTylCedtor'"'  '''  "^^""^-     "^-  —  ^"-  '"^  ^^-- 

Scrambled  En.s.-Beat  the  eggs  light,  .urn  into  a  pan  with  bacon  fried  in  dice, 

wtth^fine  chopped   ham,  parsley,  or  chipped   dried   beef,  and   stir   rapidly  until 

CROQUETTES-Can   be   made   of  cold    rice,    barley,    beans,   potatoes,  hash    or 

and  beaten  egg.  and  fi.ed  an  even  brown;  put  them  into  very  hot  fat 

_    Pain  PERDU.-Cut  stale  bread  into  pretty  shapes;  dip  it  into  egg  and  flour,  fry 

m  butter  to  a  bright  brown,  sprinkle  with  sugar  and  cinnamon  ^ 

Yorkshire  PuDn,N.._When  roasting  a  piece  of  beef,  lay  it  on  sticks  in  your 
baking.pan,  so  that  the  juice  from  the  meat  will  drop  into  the  pan  below.  Three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  before  the  beef  is  done  mix  the  following  pudding  and  pour 
.nto  the  pan  under  the  meat,  letting  the  drippings  continue  to  fall  upon  if:  One  pint 
milk,  four  eggs  well  beaten,  two  cups  of  flour,  one  teaspoon  of  salt 

Marrow  Dumpungs.-Two  eggs,  two  ounces  beef-marrow,  some  crumbs  of 
bread  and  a  tablespoon ful  of  ,l„„r.     Heat  the  marrow  to  a  cream ;  whisk  the  eggs 

all  Ld  IT  '°.l       ""T     '"'""'"'^  ""  ""'""^^  '"  '^°"'"g  """<•  '-^'  "--up 
and  add  to  the  other  ingredients.    Stir  all  well  together,  then  form  into  small  dump- 

Imgs      Drop  ihem  into  boiling  broth  and  let  them  dimmer  for  half  an  hour      They 
may  be  served  in  soup  or  wul.  roast  meat. 

STEWED  STEAK.-For  this  savory  dish  one  pound  sirloin  steak,  half  an  oiince  ' 
butter  half  an  ounce  flour,  a  Iktle  pepper  and  salt,  half  a  pint  of  cold  water,  a  table- 
spoonful  of  catsup  and  a  few  drops  of  caramel.  To  prepare  the  dish  first  make 
the  butter  very  hot,  and  then  put  in  the  steak  and  brown  it  on  both  sides.  The  .teak 
should  be  cut  an  inch  in  thickness.  As  soon  as  it  is  brown  take  it  out  of  the  fryinjr- 
pan  and  put  it  into  the  stewpan.  At  the  same  time  put  half  an  ounce  of  flour  into 
the  frying-pan  and  stir  it  in  with  the  butter,  and  add  by  degrees  half  a  pint  of  cold 
water  and  stir  well  until  it  is  mixed.  Then  add  a  little  pepper  and  salt  and  pour  it 
over  the  steak.  Garnish  it  with  fancy  cut  pieces  of  carrot  and  turnip,  then  cook  as 
slowly  as  possible  for  an  hour  and  a  half  and  put  it  into  a  flat  dish,  when  it  is  ready 
to  be  served.— .^/w  Dods. 

CAKES. 
Apple  Short  CAKE.-Stew  tender,  juicy  apples  in  a  very  little  water  until  they 
«re  smooth  and  thick,  then  reason  them  with  sugar,  a  little  butler  and  a  pinch  of 
salt.  Make  a  short  cake  of  a  pint  of  flour  sifted  with  two  teaspoons  of  bakinn 
powder  and  a  little  salt.  Rub  a  piece  of  butter  half  the  size  of  an  egg  thorouHhIy 
into  the  flour  and  mix  it  into  a  soft  dough  with  sweet  milk,  about  a  cofl-eecupful 
Divide  the  dough  into  two  equal  parts ;  take  one  of  these  on  to  a  floured  board  an<i 


544 


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roll  into  a  sheet,  handling  a?  little  as  possil)le.  Lay  it  into  a  medium-sized  dripping 
pan  and  brush  the  surface  very  lightly  with  melted  butter;  then  roll  out  the  balance 
of  the  dough  and  lay  it  over  the  first  piece.  Hake  in  a  very  hot  oven  until  done, 
then  divide  the  cake,  wliich  will  scpnralc,  without  cutlin^J,  where  it  was  buttered. 
Butter  the  lower  half  and  spread  it  with  a  generous  layer  of  the  warm  applesauce. 
Put  on  the  balance  of  the  cake,  crust  down ;  butler  and  spread  it  with  apple-sauc« 
and  serve  warm  with  sweet  cream. 

Measur.,  Cake. — Four  teacups  flour,  two  teacups  sugar,  one  and  one-half  tea- 
cups butter,  one  lemon,  four  eggs  and  one  nutmeg. 

Shrewsbury  Cake. — One  pound  flour,  twelve  ounces  sugar,  one  pound  butter, 
five  eggs.     Spices  to  taste. 

Sponge  Cake  fox  Winter. — One  cupful  flour,  one  cupful  of  sugar,  two  eggs, 
one  teaspoonful  of  baking  powder,  one-half  teacupful  water;  beat  up  quickly  and 
bake. 

Pound  Cake. — One  pound  flour,  one  pound  sugar,  one  pound  butter,  eight  egg>^ 
three  spoonfuls  rose  water,  mace  or  other  spice. 

Cheap  Pound  Cake. — One  cup  sugar,  one-half  cup  butler,  one-third  cut  milk, 
three  eggs,  one  and  a  half  cups  of  flour,  one  teaspoonful  baking  powder. 

Mrs.  Holmes'  Liberty  Cake. — One  cup  butter,  two  cups  sugar,  one  cup  milk, 
one  and  one-half  pints  of  flour,  three  eggs,  salt  and  spices,  and  three  teaspoons 
Babbitt's  yeast  powders. 

I'oRK  Cake. — One  cup  of  chopped  pork,  one  cupful  of  raisins,  the  same 
of  molasses  and  milk,  one  teaspoonful  each  of  salt  and  soda,  and  four  cupfuls  of 
flour. 

Gold  Cake. — The  yolks  of  five  eggs,  one  cup  sugar,  one  cup  rich  cream,  one 
teaspoonful  soda,  a  pinch  of  salt,  two  cups  of  flour;  season  with  vanilla. 

Silver  Cake. — Half  cup  butter,  one  and  one-half  cups  white  sugar,  one-half  cup 
sweet  milk,  the  whites  of  five  eggs,  one-half  teaspoonful  soda,  and  one  teaspoonful 
cream  tartar. 

Feaiher  Cake. — One  cup  of  sugar,  one-half  cup  of  milk,  one  and  one-half  cups 
of  flour,  one  tablespoonful  of  butter,  one-half  teaspoonful  of  soda,  one  tablespoonful 
of  cream  of  tartar;  flavor  with  lemon. 

Clove  Cake. — One  pound  flour,  one  pound  sugar,  half-pound  butter,  one  pound 
raisins,  two  eggs,  teacupful  sweet  milk,  one  tea.«poon  saleratus,  tablespoon  cloves, 
tablespoon  cinnamon  and  tablespoon  nutmeg. 

PUKF  Cake. — Three  cupfuls  of  flour,  three  eggs,  two  cups  of  white  sugar,  one 
cup  of  milk,  one  cup  of  butter,  two  teaspoonfuls  of  cream  of  tartar  and  one  spoonful 
of  soda. 

Widow's  Cake. — Two  cups  Indian  meal,  three  cups  wheat  flour,  one  pint  butter 
milk,  four  tablespoons  molasses,  two  teaspoons  saleratus.  To  be  eaten  hot,  with 
butliai,  for  tea  or  breakfast. 

lli(  KoRY  Nut  Cake.— Two  teac«i7s  of  sugar,  one-half  ch|i  of  butter,  one  cup  of 
thin  cream,  three  and  one-half  cups  of  flour,  three  teas|«)onfuls  of  baking  powder 
sifted  through  flour.  '<x  eggs  beaten  separately  and  one  pint  of  chopjied  hickory 
nut>«. 

I'R'JIT  C.^KE.— Onr  p-riund  brown  siigaf,  one  of  butter,  ten  eggs,  -sTTe  of  flour, 
two  (if  raisinii  and  twu  of  currants,  half  pound  uf  citron,  «  nutmeg,  tables^Hjoi 
•loves,  one  of  allspice,  two  tcas|>oon»  baking  powder. 


ledium-sized  dripping 
n  roll  out  the  balance 
■  hot  oven  until  done, 
vhere  it  was  buttered. 
It  warm  apple-sauce, 
d  it  with  apple-sauc« 

ne  and  one-half  tea- 

ar,  one  pound  butter, 

il  of  sugar,  two  eggs, 
beat  up  quickly  and 

ind  butter,  eight  egg\ 

•,  one-third  cut  milk, 

ig  powder, 
sugar,  one  cup  milk, 
and  three  teaspoons 

of  raisins,   the  same 
and  four  cupfuls  of 

!  cup  rich  cream,  one 
ith  vanilla. 

te  sugar,  one-half  cup 
,  and  one  teaspoonful 

me  and  one-half  cups 
da,  one  tablespoonful 

nd  butter,  one  pound 
AS,  tablespoon  cloves. 

s  of  white  sugar,  one 
rtar  and  one  spoonful 

flour,  one  pint  buller 
'o  be  eaten  hot,  with 

of  butler,  one  cup  of 
lis  of  baking  powder 
t  of  chopjHjd  hickory 

rn  eggs,  -c-n?  '->f  flour, 
I  nutmeg,  tabietiMoi 


y^Lat£Z£  HOME  tCXOlVLEl^aE. 


pounds  currants,  one  pou„a   ci.ron,  three-  .r  1.  'T",""'  """"^'  "'•^'-.  '«- 

two  teaspoons  mace,  two  of  cinnamon   Z    f   i       '^""'"'  ''"""•  °"^  ^..^  molasses 
-g.  one  teaspoon  soda,  twelve     ;: '  Z,  t^^^:  T  "'  "^^'  '^^"^"'  "^  -'' 
ha  f  cup  ho,  water.     This  cake  wilfk^ep   o     'n    '       """'"  ^"^"^  "-^'"^^  '"  o-- 
White  Fruit  Cakp     n^^  ,  ^^''f^- 

fourths  of  a  pound  of  W^^:;' ^''«"'  "'^  ^^•'"^  °^^-te.n  eg.  „.ee 

blanched  and  sliced  thin  "::;  ^ L^^r"'*  '^'"'T  '''"''  ^^'■-^ 

"t'cRr"  c""r'  '^^'-^-"'-''  in  cream         "^  """'  °"^  "^'^^"-"f"'  "^ 

-ps  of  c^^'-of^:^:^^  ;;"rcr'r  r'^''^^^-  ^-^  ^"p  °^-"^.  'h- 

th.n  layers;  three  small  cups  of  sugar  ,i?so'''\"^'''^'^'''«  P-'^":  '-^e  in 
done  for  candy       .,  ,  yj^  „„,    fj    "^^  ^      '        a  httle  water,  and  boiled  until 

•ogcther  half  .,.     ^,r.     Put  between  the ".ke!  "'"'  "''*'"  °^  ''^^^'  •-"-'  ''-t 

pof  :r  L^s;S::r::e;::sr:;;^r^r^^7;  ^ --' ----- 

rants,  one-half  ,x,und  of  raisins,  one  nua  te     1      TT      """''•'"^  '""""'  "^  cur.. 

cnnamon.  one-half  teaspoonful  of  ^r  two'    u     °' '"T  °'"  '^•^^P"""^"'  "^ 
two  hours.  '""'  '^o  tablespoons  lemon-juice.     li.,ke  for 

'onr  c.^  ^^<^^^^:^x^^z^;:::r  t'.  '"""•  ""^^  ^-p  -'"'. 

Pla."  ;  after  taking  out  the  two  pl.ain.  leavTJ  e  "■' ,     '''  '"  ""''■'  ^'"■'•'^'  '»'> 
one  cup  currants,  one.half  cup  sliced       r     ',    :    T  ""^    ""''  ""''  °"'  ^""  ^'^^"^ 
cloves,  one   teaspoon   cinnamon,  one  gr.rd'  .  le!'"'""  .""'""''  '""^  "^'^^P"- 
P'-'t.ng  the  fruit  cake  between  the  two  plain      Kh    7'''\''''''  J-"""/  -I  ^rost 
add  a  little  more  flonr.  '        '     ^^  ""^  '^'"'t  cake  seems  a  little  thin. 

Chocolate  M,\riii  r  Cake o 

cups  flonr,  one  cup  sweet  milk.'  four^Igg^;,  J  a.'.d  V.:';;"''^  """'"^^  ^"S"'  "-« 
cream  ,,„„  .if,,,,  ^j,,,  ,,_  W,,  .,7  he     k  "'"'"""'"'^  soda,  one  of 

cupful  of  the  batter  and   s.ir  into  ...l!  "  "'""'•'•  '•■''^'-'  «"'  about  a  tev 

wi.ha.scant  .ab,es,K,onfuI  o  m  k  Fi, f  •^'"7'^"'  "^  «-'^''  ^'-'co late;  t 
ye'iow  batter,  then'  drop  upon  t  J  a  ZZj'Z  T  '"  '"^"^  ''"P  -'"  '"« 
broken  circles  upon  the  lighter  surface    7rZ  .   '^'^  ""'""'■^'  ^P'-^-'^'^K  i'  i" 

Totrr  FA,T.-For  this  nice  dcr  cake  are       "'    T  u'"'  """  ""  ''  "^^■-'• 
tablespoonfuls  of  sugar,  the  same  of  fl    ^    :;;::r  j'"'  '"';  "'  ^-^  «««^.  -ree 
JUice  of  half  a  small   lemon  ;  the  whi,  ;  o  '-^'''-Poonf-'Is  of  milk  and  the 

and  mixed  with  the  yolks,  fl  ,u    etc     he    om""  Tu  '"  '"•^"^"  '"  '«  ^"«  f-" 
pan  nn.l  placed  in  a  c,.Lk  oven.  '"'""^  ""^"  '""•^'  P"'  '"  =»  ''uttered 

Moi.AS.SES  Doi.'ciINl'TS  — Tnt..  r.«  /■ 

«W  and  a  piece  of  butter  half  ih^r'oZl  ""!         ' '"'""''"''  ^"P  "^  ""■"<.  -e 
«nd  one  of  soda,     (^a.e  in  so,  e  .mtm  g      .  's'  7  '^■■^^'"""'"  °'  ^^''■^'"  "^  -'- 

Thin  OiN,:ER„REAi,_H„ii"    "        ;"  *"■ '"""«'' '"  "-o"  °"t- 

a.elyone  .-poonfu.  sod^':  eTu;:;  bulr  "^'"  '-nty  minutes,  add  immed,. 
'o  roll.  '         '^"P  °f  ''Utter,  gmger  to  taste,  flour  to  make  a  paste 

-ihhi::';:;::r^;';::;j^-;,,;;^»;- « -i-'c  sai,.  f,our  enough  ,o  mix  hard, 

Ihan  for  common  fried  cake..  *"  '"'  "  '"""•     ''^y  '"  ^o'  Jard-hotte, 


■)'. 


*     Q 


046 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


Chicago  Puffs— Four  cups  of  flour,  four  cups  of  new  milk,  four  eggs.  In.tter 
the  s,7.e  of  a  walnut ;  beat  it  as  light  as  possible,     bake  in  cups  about  twenlyhve 

minutes.  .       .  •    ■    ir        •  »     t 

\Vaii  RS  -Melt  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  butter  and   mix  it  with  half  a  pint  ol 
milk,  a  teaspoonful  of  salt,  three  beaten  eggs  and  suthcient  sifted  flour  to  enable  you 
to  roll  them  out  easily.     They  should  be  rolled  very  thin,  cut  into  sinal    circular 
cakes  and  baked  in  an  oven  of  moderate  size.     Frost  the  whole  and  sprinkle  sugar- 
sand  or  comfits  over  it  as  soon  as  frosted.  „      , ,     , 

SWEI-T  CRACKF.RS.-One  pound  of  flour,  one-half  pound  of  butter  well -rubbed 
ini  one-h.alf  pound  powdered  sugar,  mix  with  the  yoik  of  one  egg,  well  beaten,  and 
a  glass  of  sweet  wine;  roll  out  the  paste  very  thin,  and  cut  out  in  any  small  shape 

you  please.  ,       i 

GlNc-.KR  CRACKF.RS,-One  cup  of  sugar,  one  cup  of  lard,  two  cups  of  mokasses. 
teaspoonful  of  soda,  dissolved  in  a  little  warm  water,  flour  enough  to  make  a  stiff 
doui'h.  two  tablespoonfuls  of  ginger ;  roll  thin. 

BLACK  Fruit  Cake.— One  pound  butter  and  one  pound  white  sugar,  beaten  to  a 
cream;  be..t  well  the  yolks  of  twelve  eggs,  and  stir  all  together;  add  half  a  pound 
of  flour,  stir  in  well;  then  one  tablespoonful  of  cinnamon,  two  tcaspoonfuls  nutmeg, 
one  teaspoonful  cloves,  stir  well;  then  the  bealcM,  whiles  of  the  eggs,  with  another 
half  pound  of  flour,  one  pound  currants  well  washed  and  drained,  one  pound  raisins 
seeded  and  chopped,  one-half  poun.l  of  citron  cut  in  thin  pieces;  mix  all  together; 
this  will  make  two  cakes;  bake  two  hours  or  longer;  bake  in  deep  tms  lined  willi 
well-buttered  paper. 

Use  no  wine  or  brandy  in  cake-making;  beat  eggs  light,  always  sift 

flour,  and  butter  the  cake  tins. 

PIES  AND    PUDDINGS. 

AtTI  F.  Pot  PlE.-Make  a  crust,  with  half  of  it  line  the  sides  of  a  stew  pan, 
h,aving  a  close-fitting  cover  (a  porcelain  or  granite  one  is  the  best).  Fill  the  centre 
with  peeled  and  sliced  apples,  and  add  to  them  a  cupful  of  syrup,  a  pinch  of  ground 
cinnamon,  another  of  salt,  and  a  little  butter,  or  use  sugar  and  a  little  water  instead 
of  the  syrup.  Wet  the  edges  of  the  crust  and  fit  the  balance  of  it  over  the  top  of 
the  apples,  being  careful  to  have  the  s.aucepan  only  two-thirds  full,  in  order  to  give 
room  for  rising.  Put  the  cover  on  and  boil  for  an  hour  without  once  lifting  it.  but 
be  careful  it  does  not  stand  in  a  place  so  hot  as  to  burn.  Cut  the  top  crust  into 
four  equal  parts,  dish  the  api-les  and  lay  the  crust  from  the  sides;  cut  into  even 
pieces,  around  the  outer  edge,  and  then  the  top  crust  over  all.  and  serve  hot. 

Pi  I'M  Pi'DOINc, -One  pound  butler,  one  jviund  sugar,  one  pound  suet  chopped 
fine,  two  and  a  half  pounds  flour.  Prepare  the  fruit  the  day  before;  take  two 
pounds  raisuw,  seed,  chop  and  rub  in  flou-;  two  poun.ls  currants;  wash  first  in 
warm  water;  put  in  a  colnn.ler  to  drain,  then  in  two  or  three  waters,  col.l ; 
then  spread  out  on  a  large  dish  to  dry  before  the  fire;  when  dry  rub  in  flour. 
Ounrter  poun.l  <,f  citron  slice.l  very  thin,  twelve  eggs,  one  pint  of  milk,  one  table- 
.monful  cinnamon,  one  teaspoonful  of  cloves,  one  ditto  nutmeg;  mix  the  butter  and 
.ugar.  bc.it  the  yolk,  smooth  and  light,  .nd  .dd  them.  Next,  ndd  the  milk,  then 
<he  flour,  nltemntely  wilh  the  beaten  whites,  then  spices,  lastly  the  fruit  well 
dredged  with  flour.  Mix  nil  thoroughly,  wring  your  pud.ling  cloth  out  of  hot 
water,  flour  well  inside,  put  In  the  pudding  and  boil  five  hours. 


nilk,  four  eggs,  InUter 
ups  about  twenty-five 

t  with  half  a  pint  of 
led  flour  to  enable  you 
ut  into  small  circular 
jle  and  sprinkle  sugar- 

of  butter  well  rubbed 
e  egg,  well  beaten,  and 
out  in  any  small  shape 

two  cups  of  molasses, 
:nough  to  make  a  stiff 

vhite  sugar,  beaten  to  a 
ther;  add  half  a  pound 
'o  teaspoonfuls  nutmeg, 
the  eggs,  with  annlher 
.ined,i)ne  pound  raisins 
eces;  mix  all  together; 
in  deep  tins  lined  witli 

rgs  light,  always  sift 


he  sides  of  a  stew  pan, 
:  best).  Fill  the  centre 
yrup,  a  pinch  of  ground 
nd  a  little  water  instead 
lice  of  it  over  the  top  of 
Ills  full,  in  order  to  give 
•hout  once  lifting  il,  but 

Cut  the  top  crust  into 
tic  sides;  cut  into  even 
,11,  and  serve  hoi. 
one  pound  suet  chopped 
e  d,iy  before;  take  two 
i  currants;  wash  first  in 

or  three   waters,  cold; 

when  dry  rub  in  flour. 

pint  of  milk,  one  table- 
meg;  mix  the  butter  and 
Ccxt,  ndd  the  milk,  ther> 
;c>i,  lastly  the  fruil  well 
udding  cloth  out  of  hot 
loun. 


VALUABLE  IWMK   K.XOWLKDGE 

DORCHESTrR  ruDD.NG.-Half  a  pound  of  bread  crumbs  rrated   h,1f  ,     . 

suet  finally  chopped,  half  a  pound  of  sugar,  two  eggs  onTpo,  o   ,      '    f  f  T""'  "' 
1o  be  boiled  live  hours  i„  a  mould.     Suce:  ^^ ^^^^T^  ^r^^' 

grated  nutn.g  and  a  lillle  flavoring  if  desired.     When  cool,  serve  ^1,1   nVh  ere    „ 
weetened,  flavored  and  whipped  to  a  stiff  froth,  or  the  cream  m.ay  be    s    U "Zt' 
-h.ppmg.     Either  way  the  dish  is  delicious,  and  peach  Jonathan  made  i      1  e  s'l 
manner  ,s  better  Vill.     Peaches  will  need  no  water  if  ,hey  are  ripe  and      it 

h  1   gill  CO  Id  water,  half  a  teas,..onful  yeast  powder,  a  few  teaspoonfuls  of  preserve 
of  any  kind  and  a  pinch  of  salt.  '  '"'•■^^'^* 

J^'VTT  "■'  ':"""■  ""'  """■••  ""''  P»'  ""=-"  '»  -  ''"w'.  -i'ling  a  pinch  of 
sal       M,x  the  butter  and  flour  together  lightly  and  put  in  the  yeast  powder      ylZ 

water.     Use  as  bale  water  as  possible,  the  quantity  of  water  to  be  de,ern,i„ed  by 

Koll  o  t   the   dough   and   cut   it   into  circular   pieces  with   a   cake  cutler.     The 
remainder  of  the  dough  is  rolled  out  again  and  smaller  circular  pieces  cut  out   and 
w.th  a  ,..t   of  dough   that   is  still  left  make  small  narrow  s.rips.     Th .re t  s, 
sufTicent  dnu.h  to  make  a  thin  covering  for  a  plate  or  flute  dish.     The  d,sh  should 
first  be  wet  with  cold  water,  and  the  dough  bning  pressed  closely  ,o  the  edges  o 

e  d.sh.  Then  pu,  „,  the  centre  the  jam,  and  take  the  white  of  an  egg  and  wet 
.he  edges,  af.er  winch  lay  on  the  nnrr.iw  strip,  over  the  top.  Nowpm  on  the 
smnlhr  pieces  of  dough  and  bake  them  in  a  quick  oven  for  twentyfive'inluu.  s  _! 
ji/iss  Dods. 

Raisin  riE.-Take  one  pound  of  raisins,  turn  over  them  one  quart  of  b..i!i„a 

water.     Keep  adding  so  there  will  be  a  quart  when  done.     Grate  the  rind  „f  o„e 

emon   into  „  cup  of  .un-.r,  three  teaspoonfuU  of  flour  and  one  egg;    mix  well 

together  ;  turn  the  raisins  over  the  mixture,  Stirling  the  while.    This  makes  ihrw 

pies.     Hake  as  oiher  pies. 

LmoN  I'lK—Grale  the  yellow  rind  oft  wo  lemons;  beat  together  the  rind,  juicc^ 


548 


THE   COMPLETE  HOME. 


ten  tablespoonfuls  of  loaf  sugar,  and  the  yolUs  of  four  eggs,  until  very  light;  then 
add  two  tablespoonfuls  of  water.  Line  a  large  plate  and  f>ll  with  the  mixture ;  bake 
until  the  paste  is  done ;  beat  the  whites  stiff  and  stir  into  them  two  tablespoonfuls  of 
su-'ar,  spread  it  over  the  top  and  bake  a  bright  brown. 

Appi  e  Pudding.— One  cup  milk,  one  egg,  one  teaspoon  cream  tartar,  one-half 
teaspoon  soda;  flour  to  make  a  batter.  Pour  this  over  quartered  apples  and  steam 
two  hours.     Sweet  sauce. 

OMlii.ET.— Make  a  nice  omelet,  when  one  side  is  cooked  spread  with  preserves 

ami  fold  down  ;  sprinkle  with  sugar. 

CiiiAP  Pudding.— Peel  and  core  four  or  five  apples,  according  to  their  size,  cut 
them  in  slices,  and  lay  them  in  a  pie-dish ;  sprinkle  the...  with  sugar  (pounded),  and 
then  put  a  thin  layer  of  apricot  or  other  jam.  Take  two  ounces  of  arrowroot ;  mix 
it  with  a  pint  of  milk,  a  little  sugar  and  a  small  piece  of  butter;  stir  it  over  the  fire 
until  it  boils,  and  then  pour  it  into  the  pie-dish  with  the  apples  and  jam,  and  bake 

until  done.  r  i    r 

Cottage  Baked  Pudding.— Two  ecgs,  two  cupfuls  of  sugar,  half  a  cupful  ot 

butter,  one  teaspoonful  of  soda  sifted  in  two  cupfuls  of  flour,  and  three  cupfuls  of 

buttermilk.     Stir  this  last  into  the  flour,  etc.,  and  mix  lightly.     Bake  an  hour  in  a 

pudding  dish. 

Flummery.— Lay  sponge  cake  in  a  deep  dish,  pour  on  white  wine  to  moisten  it ; 
chop  some  raisins  fine  and  sprinkle  over  the  cake;  then  spread  over  it  a  layer  of 
jelly  and  turn  over  it  a  custard  made  with  the  yolks  of  eggs.  Beat  the  reserved 
whites  to  a  froth  and  spread  over  the  top.  Put  a  d.ish  of  red  sugar  sand  here  and 
tliere  over  it  or  tiny  drops  of  jelly.     Slices  of  orange,  cut  very  thin,  make  a  good 

garnish  for  it.  • 

Batter  and  Apples.— Pare  and  core  six  apples,  and  stew  them  for  a  short 
lime  with  a  little  sugar,  make  a  batter  in  the  usual  way,  beat  in  the  apples  and  pour 
the  pudding  into  a  buttered  piedish.  The  i^udding,  when  properly  done,  should  rise 
up  quite  light,  with  the  apples  on  top.     To  be  eaten  at  table  with  butter  and  moist 

»ug:ir. 

German  Puffs.— Three  eggs_,  one  pint  milk,  one  large  spoonful  flour,  a  little 
salt,  one  teaspoon  butter;  leave  out  the  whites  of  two  of  these  eggs,  and  beat  to  a 
stiff  froth,  with  two  heaping  tablespoons  sugar;  spread  it  over  the  top  and  brown  it. 

Creme— One  pint  milk  boiled  with  flavoring,  for  five  minutes,  have  mixed  four 
ounces  sugar,  f.nir  egg-yolks,  pour  on  the  boiling  milk  sh-vly.  Strain  into  u  pan 
and  set  in  a  vessel  of  boiling  water,  cook  until  it  shakes  in  the  middle,  flavor  with 
chocolate,  coffee,  vanilla,  lemon  or  fruit.     Cool  on  ice  if  possible. 

Apple  Meringue.— Stew  apples  ;  dry  with  butter,  sugar  and  spice;  put  in  a  dish 
when  nearly  cold  and  cover  with  a  cake  frosting.     Bake  three  minutes;  e.-xt  with 

eream. 

Parsnip  Pie.— Take  twelve  parsnips,  three  onions  and  six  potatoes  already 
boiled;  slice  fine  and  add  half  a  pound  of  butter,  half  a  pound  t)f  fat  pork  (cut 
•mall  an<l  already  cooked),  season  with  pepper,  mix  with  a  little  water  and  boil  a 
few  minutes.  Take  up  and  bake  slowly  in  a  deep  tlish  between  two  rich  crusts. 
An  excellent  pie  for  anlunin  and  winter  lime. 

Bread  Pudding.— Butter  a  baking  dish;  sprinkle  the  bottom  with  raisins; 
buiter  a  few  slices  of  bread ;  lay  over  the  raisins  (have  enough  slices  to  cover  the 
vusi.ird):  one  quart  of  milk  and  six  eggs;  beat  well  together;  add  two-thirds  cup 


II  very  light ;  then 
the  mixture ;  bake 

0  tablespoonfuls  of 

im  tartar,  one-half 
i  apples  and  steam 

■ead  with  preserves 

ig  to  their  she,  cut 
gar  (pounded),  and 
of  arrowroot ;  mix 
stir  it  over  the  fire 
and  jam,  and  balte 

ir,  half  a  cupful  of 

nd  three  cujjfuls  of 

Bake  an  hour  iu  a 

wine  to  moisten  it ; 

over  it  a  layer  of 

Beat  the  reserved 

agar  sand  here  and 

thin,  make  a  good 

It  them  for  a  short 
the  apples  and  pour 
riy  (lone,  should  rise 
th  butter  and  moist 

oonfid  flour,  a  little 
eggs,  and  beat  to  a 
he  top  and  brown  it. 
es,  have  mixed  four 
'.  Strain  into  u  pan 
_•  middle,  flavor  with 
e. 

1  spice;  put  ill  a  dish 
:e  minutes;  eat  with 

six  potatoes  already 
\m\  of  fat  pork  (cut 
Itle  water  and  boil  a 
veen  two  rich  crusts. 

bottom  with  raisins; 
1  slices  to  cover  the 
;  add  twothird§  cup 


valuable:  home  knowledge.  549 

Whit.  «ugar;  pour  over  bread  when  done;  turn  on  another  dish  cut  in  slices  when 
over  it  boiling  hot-  let  it  sHnrI  ,il       ii       ,     .""'"^  '"'°  '^'x^^.  ""d  pour  the  mi:k 

^^ ...  .„...;„.„.  .;:;t;"  ;r.:r;:  ^::  ;:*.:— 

half  Vi  tv      „:;  leT,  :  :;?'•  '""  ^'°"""^  "^'^^'  '^^  "°""^'^  -e-.  one  and  ,^ 
nu.Jg.one;a;t;;,es.'         "'"'  °'"  °"""  "'^"'  °"^  °"-  --"-•.  -« 
flour' dmL'T'"/"'  "i^Pi-^-Pa^te  into  squares;  on  e.-tch  square  pile  one  pinch 
edges,  fold  over  qu.ckly.  pinch  closely,  and  bake  for  fifteen  minutes.     Very  good. 
SAUCES   AND   DRESSINGS. 

ttis  of  gravy;  s.ram  all  m.o  some  melted  butler:  then  p.,  i.  the  mm  .{  ih  -  io'l 
''-.  n,t  up,  pvo  it  all  one  boil  «nd  add  «  sciuee.e  of  a  lemon 
J.  AMBACE  .SALAl,.-One  egg.  one  teas|>,„,nfnl  .,f  salt,  one  tea^poonful  of  ^UL'ir  i 
half  teaspoonful  of  mustard,  a  quarter  teaspoonful  of  pepper,  two'thirds  Tf  .^^t,,'? 


I' 


:^*i.' 


I' 


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fm  i  I     it 


550 


r//£  COMPLETE  HOME. 


vinegar ;  beat  all  together  and  boil  in  a  bowl  over  the  steam  of  a  kettle  till  quit* 
thick ;  then  turn  the  mixture  over  a  small  half  head  of  cabbage  chopped  fine ;  if  to« 
thick  add  cold  vinegar.     To  be  eaten  when  cold. 

French  Mi.'stard. — Slice  an  onion  in  a  bowl ;  cover  wilh  good  vinegar.  After 
two  days  pour  off  the  vinegar ;  add  to  it  a  teaspoonful  of  cayenne  pepper,  a  teaspoon- 
ful  of  salt,  a  tablespoonful  of  sugar  and  mustard  enough  to  thicken;  mix.  Set  on 
the  stove  and  stir  lill  it  boils.     When  cold  it  is  fit  for  use. 

Drawn  IJuttf.r. — Melt  one  ounce  of  butter  in  a  small  saucepan,  and  then  throw 
in  the  dry  flour,  which  mixes  instantly.  Then  add  one  gill  of  milk  and  siir  until  it 
l)oils,  then  add  one  gill  of  cream.  Let  them  boil  two  minutes  so  as  to  swell  the 
jjrains  of  flour;  then  add  the  yolks  of  two  eggs  chopped  fine. 

Sai^ce  for  Roast  Beek. — Grate  horseradish  on  a  grater  into  a  basin,  add  two 
tablespoonfuls  of  cream,  wilh  a  little  mustard  ami  salt,  mix  well  together;  add  four 
trtblespoonfuls  of  the  best  vinegar,  and  mix  the  whole  thoroughly.  The  vinegar  and 
cream  are  both  to  be  cold. 

Salad  Drf.ssinc  W'liuorT  Oil. — Take  the  yolks  of  two  hard-boiled  eggs,  and 
rub  them  quite  hniooth  in  a  mortar;  add  a  teaspoonful  of  mustard,  a  little  cayenne 
with  black  pepper  and  salt  to  Laste,  and  four  or  five  tablespoonfuls  of  cream;  lastly, 
add  a  tablespoonlul  of  vinegar,  mix  well,  and  it  is  ready.  Of  course  it  is  much 
better  with  olive  oil,  l)ut  there  are  yet  people  in  the  world  who  reject  it. 

Foaming  Sauce. — Boat  a  cup  of  sugar  with  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  butter  until 
it  is  light  and  creamy;  add  the  well-beaten  yolk  of  an  egg,  then  the  while  cut  to  a 
stiff  froth  and  heat  vigorously.  Stir  in  a  wine-glass  of  water  and  flavoring.  Set  the 
bowl  over  the  teakettle  until  the  mixture  is  the  thickness  of  cream;  on  no  account 
allow  it  to  boil  or  the  sauce  will  be  spoiled. 

Dried  Beef  (;ravy. — Shave  very  thinly  one-half  teacupful  of  beef,  put  over  it 
one  quart  of  cold  water ;  set  on  top  of  stove ;  let  it  simmer  one  or  two  hours ; 
thicken  with  one  and  one-half  tablespoonfuls  of  flour  mixed  with  cold  water,  and 
butter  size  of  walnut ;  salt  to  taste. 

Celery  Salt.— Save  the  root  of  the  celery  plant,  dry  and  grate  it,  mixing  it  wilh 
one-third  as  much  salt.  Keep  in  a  bottle  well  corked,  and  it  is  delicious  for  soups, 
oysters,  gravies  or  hashes. 

Prune  Wiiir. — Sweeten  to  taste,  and  stew  three-fourths  of  a  pound  of  prunes; 
when  perfectly  cold  add  whites  of  four  eggs  beaten  stiff;  stir  all  this  together  lill 
light;  put  in  a  dish  and  bake  twenty  minutes;  when  cold  serve  in  a  larger  dish  and 
cover  with  whipjied  cream. 

SoYER  Sauce, — One  spoon  mustard;  one  spoon  olive  oil;  one-half  cup  catsup. 

Favorite  Sauce. — Kind  of  one  lemon  sliced  very  thin,  juice  of  the  lemon,  one 
spoon  sugar,  two  spoons  olive  oil,  two  spoons  mustard. 

Mixed  Sauce. — Three  apples  chopped  fine,  two  onions,  one  seeded  cucumber, 
two  green  peppers,  three  tomatoes;  chop  well,  mix  with  salt,  pepper,  mustard  and 
Tinegar,  a  little  sugar. 

Carrot  Sauce. — Soak  thin  sliced  carrots  for  two  hours  in  cold  w.ater  (ice  water 
is  best);  put  in  a  pan  wilh  one  pound  of  sugar  and  one  cup  of  water;  boil  to  a  clear 
syrup;  add  juice  of  one  lemon  and  boil  for  five  minutes. 

Plain  Puddinc;  Sauce. — Three  tablesi^oons  sugar,  three  tablespoons  vinegar,  one 
»|>oon  iiuiur,  one  spoon  lloui  ;  iiiix  wcii,  ami  pr.iir  over  them  ihrccfourihs  of  a  pii* 
of  boiling  w.atcr,  cook  for  five  minutes.     Sprinkle  with  nutmeg  or  cinnamon. 


r^'h 


VALUABLE  HOME  KNOWLEDGE. 


651 


1  of  a  Kettle  till  quiti 
je  chopped  fine ;  if  to« 

1  good  vinegar.  After 
ine  pepper,  a  teaspoon' 
Lhiciien ;  mix.    Set  on 

cepan,  and  then  throw 
f  milk  and  siir  until  it 
ites  so  as  to  swell  the 

into  a  basin,  add  two 
'ell  together ;  add  four 
hly.    The  vinegar  and 

hard-boiled  eggs,  and 

istard,  a  little  cayenne 

nTuls  of  cream ;  lastly, 

Of  course  it  is  much 

10  reject  it. 

.  pound  of  butler  until 
then  the  while  cut  to  a 
and  flavoring.    Set  the 

cream ;  on  no  account 

ful  of  beef,  put  over  it 

:r  one   or  two  hours; 

with  cold  w.iter,  and 

grate  it,  mixing  it  with 
t  is  delicious  for  soups, 

of  a  pound  of  prunes ; 
tir  all  this  together  till 
ve  in  a  larger  dish  and 

one-half  cup  catsup, 
aice  of  the   lemon,  one 

one  seeded  cucumber, 
t,  pepper,  mustard  and 

1  cold  water  (ice  water 
if  water ;  boil  to  a  clear 

ibtespoons  vinegar,  one 
ihrccfr.iirihs  tif  .-j  pili 
c);  or  cinnamon. 


Stewards'  SAUCE.-One  pound  butter  beaten  to  a  cream,  one  ounce  chopped 
parsley,  two  ounces  chopped  chives,  the  juice  of  one  lemon;  mix  and  servo  cold 
lor  hsh  or  meat. 

Fisit  Sauci:.— Boil  two  eggs  hard ;  pound  the  yolks  smooth.  Roil  f„r  five  niin 
utes  a  few  sprigs  of  chives,  parsley,  thyme  and  summer  savory;  strain  this  water  on 
the  mashed  yolks  and  add  one  teaspoon  each  salt,  sugar,  mustard  and  black  „e„„er 
hen  four  tablespoons  olive  oil  and  two  of  vinegar.  ' 

Breai,  Sai:ci.:.-C,  umb  white  bread  fine,  stew  one-half  cup  crumbs  in  one  pint 
m.  k,  add  pq-pcr,  salt  and  nutmeg,  also  one  spoon  butter;  serve  with  roast  came 

IJUTrtCK  SAUCK._One-half  cup  flour  mixed  into  a  smooth  paste;  sfr  tins  in.o 
half  a  pnu  of  bo.hng  w..ter,  add  a  little  salt  and  stir  steadily  three  nunntes;  renu.ve 
from  the  fire  and  add  one  tablespoon  butter,  juice  of  one  lemon,  one  tahloMUH... 
chopped  parsley;  keep  it  hoi  for  live  minutes  on  the  back  of  the  stove,  but  on  no 
account  let  it  boil.     Use  for  mackerel. 

For  pudding  sauces  in  winter  notliing  can  be  nicer  than  fruit-juice 
sauce.     When  canning  fruit  in  the  summer,  small  quantities  oC  juice 
arc  frequently  left  over  from  filling  the  jars.     Add  to  sucli  jtn-<o  a 
little  sugar,  let  it  come  to  a  boil  and  bottle  it  in  any  small  vials  which 
will  just  hold  the  (luantily  on  hand ;  put  in  a  clean  cork,  sluivo  it 
level  with  the  bottle  and  cover  it  with  sealing  wax,  or  common  wax 
and  a  bit  of  cloth.     Two  or  three  dozen  such  bottles,  holding  from 
an  ounce  to  a  pint  of  juice,  are  invaluable  in  the  winter.     To  make 
this  sauce  put  your  fruit  juice,  and  a  little  water,  oi  none  according 
to  quantity  and  strength  of  flavor,  in  a  cup  and  let  it  come  to  a  boil : 
have  mixed  to  a  cream  a  spoonful  of  sugar  and  a  si)ounful  of  flour, 
stir  these  in  the  boiling  juice  and  boil  until  of  the  right  consistency; 
remove  from  tiie  fire  and  add  a  spoonful  of  butter,  stirring  until  it  is 
dissolved.     This  is  a  cheap,  healthful  and  easily  made  sauce,  while  its 
chief  ingredient  is  one  often  thrown  away,  "because  the  fruit  jars 
are  full." 

IMPORTANT   RECIPES. 

ExcKi.l.KNT  DRKAD.-Bread  is  called  the  staff  of  life.  If  a  table  lacks  good 
bread  it  is  a  poor  table,  no  matter  how  great  (he  variety  and  excellence  of  the  other 
articles  of  food.  Hotli  hot  bre.id  and  l)read  made  (piickly  of  soda  in  the  form  of 
biscuits  are  unwholesome  for  common  use.  Invalids  and  children  should  never  e.vt 
fresh  bread.  Some  families  Inke  twice  a  week,  some  but  once  :  if  bread  is  baked 
loo  frequently  dyspejj^ia  and  hiliousness  are  likely  to  prevail  in  the  family.  Kvcry 
mistress  of  a  family  should  know  how  to  make  and  hake  ,<,■<»<>(/  lirtail,  and  should 
insist  upon  having  only  good  bread  on  her  tahle.  The  retpiisites  for  good  hrend- 
n-rakii.g  art:  care,  absuiutc  cicai,iii,e».  good  (Iwur  ami  good  iiopyeast:  these  are 
about  equally  requisite,  and  if  any  one  be  lacking  the  result  is  bad  bread.     A  ntuna 


I 


ll 


652 


THE   COMPLETE  I/O  ME. 


jar  or  wooden  bowl  is  best  for  setting  bread   sponge;    these  should  be  used  for 
nothing  else,  and  should  be  kept  well  scoured  and  sunned.     Beat  the  sixjnge  with  a 
wooden  beater.     Set  the  sponge  over  night.     In  winter  set  it  about  six  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  and  keep  it  warm  near  the  stove  over  night.     In  summer  set  spon"e 
about  nine  or  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  keep  it  iii  a  cool  place— not  a  cellar 
or  spring-house — so  that  it  may  rise  wiihout  becoming  sour.     To  set  bread,  put  two 
or  three  quarts  of  flour— according  to  your  family— in  a  stone  jar  and  pour  boiling 
water  over  it,  beating  it  smoothly  until  it  is  an  even,  tolerably  thick  jiastc.     When 
this  is  lukewarm  add  to  it  one  cup  of  hop  yeast  and  one  tablespoon  of  salt.     In  the 
m.jrning  this  will  foam  like  soapsuds;  pour  this  foaming  sjrange  into  a  kneadin^ 
bowl  or  pan  of  flour,  and,  using  enough  flour  to  make  a  good  smooth  dough,  work 
it  not  less  than  twenty  minutes,  half  an  hour  is  better.     Wlien  this  has  been  kept 
covered  in  a  moderately  warm  place  until  light,  you  will  find  on  tearing  off  a  piece 
of  the  top  that  it  is  full  of  cells,  honeycombed.      At  once  knead  it   into  loaves, 
using  only  flour  enough  to  work  it;  kne.ad  it  at  this  time  about  ten  minutes,  or  until 
the  gas  in  the  dough  stops  cracking  and  puffing;  put  it  in  buttered  pans,  and  let  it 
become  light  once  more.     Be  careful  that  it  does  not  stand  too  long  and  begin  to 
ferment.     See  that  the  oven  is  not  so  hot  as  to  form  a  crust  at  fust,  for  ihc  bread 
should  continue  to  rise  after  entering  the  oven,  and  a  speedy  crust  makes  it  tou"h. 
Increase  the  oven  hent  after  twenty  minutes.     Let  it  l)ake  from  an  hour  to  an  hour 
and  a  half,  according  to  size  of  loaves.     Have  a  nice  even  brown,  sides,  top  and 
bottom. 

Hop-Yeast — Boil  a  large  handful  of  hops  in  a  quart  of  water,  keeping  them 
well  covered.  Have  in  a  pan  a  pint  of  flour  and  three  mashed  Irish  potatoes,  pour 
the  boiling  hop-water  on  these  and  stir  smooth.  When  lukewarm  add  one  cup  of 
yeast.  Let  it  rise  from  six  to  tw.;lve  hours;  then  add  .-»  small  handful  of  salt  and 
stir  it  down ;  in  three  or  four  hours  more  put  if  in  a  closely  covered,  perfectly  sweet 
stone  jar  or  jug,  and  keep  in  a  cool,  dry,  dark  place. 

Coffee.— Never  buy  ground  coffee.  When  about  to  make  coffee  t.ike  the  brown 
berries  and  heat  them  hot,  then  grind  while  hot ;  have  your  cofi"ee-pot  clean,  empty, 
dry,  allow  no  cold  coffee  or  old  groimds.  Put  the  dry  coflee  in  the  pot,  and  pour 
over  it  as  much  boiliH^,  hard  l>oi/iii:^  water  as  you  want  coffee.  If  you  have  a 
French  pot  with  a  sieve  in  the  middle,  keep  it  securely  fastened  up,  stand  it  where  it 
will  be  hot  but  not  boil  for  ten  minutes,  and  your  coffee  will  be  all  right.  But  sup- 
jjose  that  you  have  no  French  ])ot .'  Tie  your  ground  coffee  loosely  in  a  bit  of  lace- 
net,  or  larlatane,  or  very  thin  swiss  mull,  put  it  in  the  coffee-pot,  pour  on  the  boiling 
water  as  before,  put  a  tight  cork  in  the  i^oul,  and  see  that  the  lid  fits  closely,  put  a 
cloth  in  it  if  it  does  not,  and  let  it  stand  back  for  ten  minutes  as  before.  The  idea  is 
lo  keep  all  the  aroma-charged  steam  in  the  coffeepot,  and  have  the  subtle  oil  of  the 
berries  in  your  coffee-pot,  and  not  pervading  all  the  house,  wandering  out  of  doors 
«nd  regaling  the  neighbors,  while  you  are  dolefully  drinking  brown  warm  water. 

Tea.— Use  a  brown  earthen  tea-|iot,  and  dare  to  bring  it  to  the  table.  Put  your 
dry  tea  into  this  dry  pot ;  cover  if  and  let  it  stand  on  the  back  of  the  stove  till  pot 
and  tea  are  zip/.-  this  releases  the  aromatic  oil  of  the  leaves.  Now  |)our  on  the 
ioi/int,' WAifT,  as  much  as  you  want  tea;  cover  it  closely.  In  Scotland  they  use  a 
close  w.'dded  bag  called  a  ro.uy  to  cover  the  pot,  and  it  is  i\  valuable  invention. 
Never  boil  tea,  black  or  green;  heat  the  leaves,  steep  in  boiling  water,  aud  keep 
the  sleam  iu  the  put  and  the  tea  will  be  excellent. 


hould  be  used  for 
;  the  sixjiige  with  a 
bout  six  o'clock  in 
iunimer  set  sponge 
place — not  a  cellar 
set  bread,  put  two 
ir  and  jjour  boiling 
lick  paste.  When 
>ii  of  salt.  In  the 
e  into  a  kneading 
loolh  dough,  work 
his  has  l)cen  kept 
tearing  off  a  piece 
:ad  it  into  loaves, 
1  minutes,  or  until 
ed  j>ans,  and  let  it 
long  and  begin  to 
'iisl,  for  the  bread 
it  makes  it  tough, 
n  hour  to  an  hour 
vn,  sides,  top  and 

ler,  keeping  them 
ish  potatoes,  pour 
n  add  one  cup  of 
mdlul  of  salt  and 
d,  perfectly  sweet 

!e  lake  the  brown 
pot  clean,  empty, 
he  |X)t,  and  pour 
If  you  have  a 
,  stand  it  where  it 

right.  IJut  sup- 
t  in  a  bit  of  lace- 
mr  on  the  boiling 
fits  closely,  put  a 
are.  The  idea  is 
i  subtle  oil  of  the 
ring  out  of  doors 

warm  water, 
table.     Put  your 

the  stove  till  pot 
low  pour  on  the 
3tland  they  use  a 
uahle  invention, 
water  J  and  keeu 


VALUABLE  HOME  KA'OWLEDGE. 


LEMON.'Vni-  —This  ic  ,  •  '  ^"'^ 

-.  in  the  spring  the;:  I'Z  ^X^t.  of  bd'  '"^'"^  °"'  '^^  — '     ^^  'Veely 
P'-;-      It  is  more  wholesome  when  t-Iv  m'r'T '''"'' '^"^^^^ ''^  ^''-h  to  com 

halve    nuo  the  pitcher,  strewing  them  ZZ  l^T      ''"''"•     '^^'^"  ^'-"  '"« 
Let  the  lemons  and  sugar  lie  for  an  hour  ^his  11  u  '"  ''''^  S'''''""'^"^^  ^"gar. 

I^'  of  ,ce  laid  on  top  of  lemons  and  su"' in.nr  "f  ^'^  "'^^°^  "'  "'^  ""^s.  A 
w  at  w.a.er  you  want  for  iemonade.l  rr  L     ' nf '"•     '''"''  =""  "-'•  ^  -  ^^^ 

best,  but  any  other  will  do.  sLin^hrl!"'!.  ^^  ■^'"'''  ''^^'^''"'^^  or  strawberries  are 
;;.i'e  sugar;  beat  well.  vX :r;T:^r:i^' ^^^-^-^  ^^  ^  vZZ 
fif.een  m.nutes;  when  it  is  all  a  thick  fo.m  n,  ,   .  """'"'  '''"''  '^«=^'  '"^d  for 

l^Kow.v  liREAD.-One  quart  hr  '^     "  ■"'°  «"'^'^''^  f"''  dessert. 

or  n.o.asses,  one  heapi;;  :;:  ^u  Tf' sTl":  ""•^"  ^"f "  '-^•'  ^  ^'^--P 
-  -n  add  a  little  rye  or  wheat  .our,  Z.  I  Z  ^:r  ^ i;:;^  ^  ^^  ^^ 


DISHES   FOR    INVALIDS. 


Beef  Tea —r  ^^^ivalids. 

>n.o  ^mai,  dice-iik:',:;':':  ^  or;;c'c  n  "^^^  ''-'■'  ^'-^  ^-  "^^  --  -at 

'--y   or   thir,yn,i„ute,,\kim:::g'^'      .:,;""'-•--- >he  juices;  boil 

Another,  better  for  the  very  sick,  or  fo    wTaks'      u"   '*"'"   '"'    "''  '°  'a^tc. 
»s  above,  intoawide.mou.hed  b^tle  0^,0  ''"'  "'  -"'eef,  prepared 

i<ettle  of  cold  water;  prop  it  so  tha^'it  1^,  V""  '''"  ^■"^^;  P''^«  "  i"  a 

set  the  kettle  aside  to  U  when  ;  1  ^  '  ^  all";''' '^"'  '"' ""^  '^-'  '''- 
have  the  simple  juice  or  essence  of  the  bcS  "''^^'^ '■^"^°^«  'he  bottle,  a,,d  you 

^p^^^:^'^:X:^:^^     -^-^^-  -- .,  .he 

n  down,  and  set  it  in  a  saucepan  of  boili  !  j;;/  "'  '  '"  ^  /f  ?"'  '^  '""'^  ""'  ''•= 
hours;  then  pass  it  through  a  sieve  with  .a Tit  e  o  '  the  Th  Z"'  ''■°"  '''"  '°  ^- 
a  hurry  in  two  hours,  but  it  is  better  when  "''     ^^  '°"''^  ^^^  "«''«  in 

wings  in  the  panada.  '''"  '""^er  t.me  is  allowed.     Do  not  put  the 

Soup  for  an  Invaiid  — r,,*  ;„        u    • 

.^  - -h ;  boi,  it  gen^;  in^:  ^  T^:!  rrri^.^"  -^  "^""-  -  ^ 

;^-  t.  a  pint,  strain  it.     Season  with  a  Uo^lJCl^'.^T::::;;::^; 

sngt'amnilfTgllyiJf,  "l  m  IT  '"" '  ""'  ^  '^blespoonfui  of  white 
acid  half  a  glass  of  cr^m"    '     :::^:f:^r  "  "^^^  ^'^"-'^  ^'"' '  '^^  -" 
an  invalid,  and  is  especia  Iv  .17^^'^        ,         "'  """•     '^^'''^  '^  »  f""  "'^al  fo 
»en,s  solid  food  being  "e',     '  "  '""""^  °'  "'^°'"'  --">  "^  stomach  pre. 

pi^;^r;^?a:;r  •  z::^  r  ,r '  r'"  -  ""•:  ^°'"  -- '  -^ » -» 

•-il;  being  constantly  stirred  fo  six  or  e  h  •  '  '""'  °'  '°"'"S  "■•^'-.  ^'d  let  it 
-.h  the  cold  meal  L  wateUrr  ^  ^vTas  iLr"  '^  ^"^""'  ^"^  "  '" 
removmg  it  from  the  stove.     Gruel  should  i-  verv  ;.i:;:''":.^f  ,°^7;"^""™-  '^^- 

CK...M.-Or.„d  nee  to  a  very  <i„e  Hour,  stir  it  with  'a  little  cold  milk  and  a 


m 


11- 


5M 


THE  COMPLETE  HOME. 


pinch  of  salt.    Have  a  pint  of  milk  boiling  slowly,  and  stir  in  the  rice  smoothed  j« 

cold  milk  ;  aJ  J  sugar  and  flavor  to  taste ;  stir  all  the  time  until  it  is  done ;  turn  it  into 
a  while  dibh.  Now  take  the  white  of  one  egg  and  whip  it  to  a  froth ;  add  pul- 
verized su;,'ar  to  m^ke  as  for  cake  frosting;  spread  it  smoothly  over  your  rice,  and 
sot  in  the  oven  for  three  minutes.  This  is  nice  cold  with  cream,  or  warm  served 
with  currant  jelly. 

Dkinks  fur  Invalids. — Mash  any  kind  of  fruit,  ••■arrants,  tamarinds,  berries 
pour  boiling  water  oil  them.  In  ten  minutes  slrain  it  off,  sweeten,  cool;  add  a 
little  ice,  if  possible.  Do  not  allow  this  drink  to  sland  in  the  sick-chamber,  keep  it 
in  a  cool,  airy  place. 

Boiling  water  poured  over  browned  flour,  or  browned  wheat  or  corn,  or  evenly 
toasted  bread,  and  treated  as  above,  is  also  a  v.'holesome,  agreeable  drink  for  ihc 
sick.  Sage,  balm,  and  sorrel  mixed  and  put  with  half  a  sliced  lemon,  and  treated 
as  above,  is  a  valuable  drink  in  fevers. 

Cream  of  Tartar  Drink. — Two  spoonfuls  cre.am  of  tartar,  the  grated  rind  of  a 
lemon,  half  a  cup  of  loaf  sugar,  and  one  pint  of  boiling  water,  is  a  good  summer 
drink  for  invalids,  and  is  cleansing  to  the  blood. 

Oatmeal  Gruel  is  made  as  corn-meal  gruel,  but  boiled  longer. 

Panada. — Sprinkle  large  soda  crackers  with  white  sugar  and  nutmeg;  then  pour 
on  a  little  more  boiling  water  than  the  cr,rckers  will  absorb.  This  is  a  pleasant 
dish  if  dressed  with  a  frosting  as  the  rice  cream,  or  covered  with  strawberries  and 
sifted  sugar. 

Barley  Gruel. — Boil  the  barley  three  or  four  hours  in  plenty  of  water,  then 
when  the  water  is  white  and  glutinous,  strain  it  off  and  add  a  little  loaf  sugar,  and 
a  very  little  salt.     This  is  exceedingly  nourishing,  and  is  good  for  infants. 

Among  the  articles  to  be  recommended  for  invalids  we  have  rice, 
sago,  tapioca,  corn  and  oatmeal,  stewed  fruits,  tomatoes,  broiled 
tender  beef,  rare;  beef-tea,  broth  and  soup  of  mutton  or  fowl ;  choc- 
olate, lemonade,  gelatine,  baked  apples,  brown  bread,  milk  toasi;, 
baked  potatoes. 

Invalid:;  should  have  no  fried,  hard  or  greasy  food,  no  pastry,  no 
rich  cakes,  no  old-fashioned  rich  preserves. 

Wheat  I-'rumitv. — Boil  wheat  to  a  jelly.  To  one  quart  wheat  jelly  add  one 
quart  milU,  three  eggs ;  sweeten  and  flavor  to  taste ;  scald  together,  and  use  hot  or 
cold. 

Raw  Er.RS. — Persons  sufTfring  from  dyspepsia  can  often  digest  raw  eggs  when 
the  stomach  is  too  weak  to  receive  and  retain  anything  else.  They  are  rlways  veiy 
nourishing  and  strength-giving 

Dried  Flour  for  Infants. — Take  one  teacupful  of  flour,  tie  it  up  tightly  in  a 
close  muslin  bag,  and  put  it  in  a  pot  of  cold  w.Uer  and  boil  three  hours;  then  take 
it  out  and  dry  the  outside.  When  used,  grate  it.  One  tablespoonful  is  enough  for 
one  teacupful  of  milk  (which  would  be  better  with  a  little  water);  wet  the  flour 
with  a  little  cold  water  and  stir  into  the  milk:  add  a  very  little  salt  and  boil  Ava 
ttiinutes. 


I  the  rice  smoothed  in 
it  is  done ;  turn  it  into 
to  a  froth;  add  pul- 
ly  over  your  rice,  and 
ream,  or  warm  served 

s,  tamarinds,  berries 
sweeten,  cool ;  add  a 
sick-chamber,  keep  it 

eat  or  corn,  or  evenly 
reeable  drink  for  the 
:d  lemon,  and  treated 

r,  the  grated  rind  of  a 
ei,  is  a  good  summer 

iger. 

id  nutmeg;  then  pour 
i).  This  is  a  pleasant 
ivith  strawberries  and 

plenty  of  water,  then 
.  little  loaf  sugar,  and 
i  fur  infants. 

ilids  we  have  rice, 
tomatoes,  broiled 
on  or  fowl ;  clioc- 
jread,   milk  toast, 


)od,  no  pastry,  no 


t  wheat  jelly  add  one 
igethcr,  and  use  hot  or 

digest  raw  eggs  when 
They  are  rlways  veiy 

ir,  tie  it  np  tightly  in  a 
hree  hours  ;  llicn  take 
spoonful  is  enough  (or 
water) ;  wet  the  flour 
ttle  salt  and  boil  fiva 


■r 


VALUABLE  HOME  KXOiyLEDGE. 


655 


CANDY. 

CocoANUT  Candy.— Grate  the  meat  of  a  cocoanut.and  having  ready  two  pounds 
of  finely  sifted  sugar  (wliile)  and  the  beaten  whites  of  two  eggs,  also  the  milk  of  the 
nut,  mix  altogether  and  make  into  little  cakes.  In  a  sliort  tune  the  candy  will  be 
dry  enough  to  eat. 

To  Sugar  or  Crystallize  Topcorn.— Put  into  an  iron  kettle  one  tablespoonful 
of  butter,  three  tablespoonfuls  of  water  and  one  teacupful  of  white  sugar;  boil  until 
ready  to  candy,  then  throw  in  three  quarts  of  corn,  nicely  popped ;  stir  briskly  until 
the  candy  is  evenly  distributed  over  the  corn;  set  the  kettle  from  the  fire,  and  slir 
until  it  has  cooled  a  little,  anu  you  have  each  grain  separate  and  crystallized  with 
the  sugar;  care  should  be  taken  not  to  have  too  hot  a  fire  lest  you  scorch  the  corn 
when  crystallized.     Nuts  of  any  kird  prepared  in  this  way  are  delicious. 

A  DELICIOUS  Fruit  Candy  is  made  by  a.lding  chopped  raisins  and  figs  to  a  synip 
made  by  stewing  two  pounds  of  sugar  with  the  juice  of  two  lemons,  or,  if  lemons 
are  not  at  hand,  with  a  cupful  of  vinegar  flavored  with  essence  of  lemon.  Dried 
cherries  and  any  firm  preserves  may  be  used  instead  of  raisins  and  figs. 

COCOANUT  BALLS.-One-half  cupful  butter,  one  cupful  sugar,  one  half  cupful 
sweet  m:lk,  two  cupfuls  flour,  two  teaspoonfuls  baking  powder,  salt,  three  eggs  the 
whites  of  two  t.aken  out  for  icing.  Frosting:  Whiles  of  two  eggs  beaten  lo  a 
stiff  froth  with  egg-beaier;  then,  a  teaspoonful  at  a  time,  add  twenty  teaspoon- 
fuls  powdered  sugar,  stirring  it  in  with  a  knife.  Bake  cake  in  jelly-cake  tins- 
spread  each  cake  with  icing,  and  .sprinkle  each  evenly  and  thickly  with  desiccate.^ 
cocoanut. 

Caramels.— With  the  advent  of  cold  weather  there  are  certain  kinds  of  sweets 
which  are  popular,  among  which  are  caramels.  The  following  is  an  excellent  and 
reliable  receipt:  Three  pounds  of  brown  sugar,  one-half  jiound  Baker's  chocolate, 
one-half  pound  of  butter,  two  tablespoons  of  molasses,  same  quantity  of  vinegar, 
one  cup  of  crean.  or  milk.  Boil  twenty-five  minutes;  when  off  the  fire  add  vanma.' 
Beat  ten  minutes  to  granulate,  or  if  crisp  is  preferred,  do  not  beat. 

Barley  Sugar. — Soak  one  quart  barley  five  minutes  in  hot  water;  drain;  stew 
the  barley  in  china  with  four  quarts  water,  until  very  soft;  mash,  strain,  cool  to  a 
jelly,  add  one  cup  sugar,  one  ounce  butter  ;  stew  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  and  cool. 
More  sugar  may  be  needed. 

Butter  Scotch. — Two  large  cups  brown  sugar,  one-half  cup  butter,  one-half  cup 
water;  cook  until  it  snaps  or  strings  as  poured  from  the  spoon;  pour  thin  upon  but- 
tered plates,  and  when  nearly  cold  score  it  in  squares. 

Molasses  Candy. — Boil  the  molasses  slowly,  stirring  all  the  time  ;  when  nearly 
done  arid  one  teaspoon  butter,  one  spoon  brown  sugar,  one  pinch  soda.  Try  it  by 
dropping  in  water. 

Tea  nut  Candy.— Shell  the  pea-nuts  and  rub  off  the  brown  skins;  almost  fill  a 
pan  or  plate  with  them;  pour  on  the  molasses  candy  made  as  above,  or  sugar  candy 
as  in  the  following  recipe. 

Sugar  Candy. — Three  cups  dark-brown  sugar,  a  little  gum  arable  or  white  of 
egg;  stir  in  one-half  cup  of  cold  water,  boil  slowly,  stirring  constantly,  skim  the 
dark  foam  off.  Test  it  by  a  few  drops  thrown  into  a  cup  of  cold  water;  when  nearly 
done,  add  a  pinch  of  soda,  and  a  teaspoon  of  butter.  Beet  sugar  will  not  mak« 
good  candy. 


w 


M'll 


K 
-,}• 


m 


II 


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r//E   COMPLETE  HOME. 


'  1  %\\ 


ChotolATE  Candy.— Make  as  for  butter  scotch,  using  only  one  large  teaspoo* 
of  hullf      Micl  a  cup  of  grated  chocolate,  or  one  chocolate  cake  broken  into  bits. 

Canuhcu  Fruits.— Make  as  for  sugar  c.indy ;  when  almost  done  drop  in  figs, 
sections  of  oranges  or  lemons,  stoned  piuncs  or  dates,  or  wedges  of  citron;  dip  out 
separately  in  five  minutes,  taking  up  syrup  with  each,  lay  on  a  buttered  dish. 

GENERAL  RECIPES  FOR  CLEANING. 

Ants  of  all  kinds,  also  roaches,  can  be  expelled  by  using  jjowdered  borax.  If 
soot  gets  on  a  carpel,  sprinkle  -alt  on  it,  and  with  a  dustpan  and  stiff  brusi,  you  can 
remove  all  the  soot;  repeat,  if  necessary,  three  times. 

For  Cleaning  Cari'ets.— To  one  gallon  of  water  add  two  lab'.s]-)oonfuls  of 
spirits  of  hartshorn.  Wring  out  clean  flannel  cloths  in  this  mixture,  ami  rub  the 
carpet  with  the  damp  cloth.  .See  that  the  cloth  is  not  loo  wet,  and  dry  the  carpet 
■with  a  dry  cloth. 

To  Clean  a  Nursery  Carpet.- Have  a  pail  of  very  warm  water;  throw  in  a 
tablespoonful  of  powdered  borax;  then,  with  a  clean  scrubbing  brush  and  very  little 
if  any  soap,  scrub  well  the  soiled  places;  rinse  with  clean  hut  waler,  and  rub  very 
dry  with  a  clean,  soft  cloth.     If  possible,  open   he  windows  to  dry  quickly. 

To  Cleanse  Glass  Glomes.— If  the  globes  on  gas  fixtures  are  much  stained  on 
the  outside  by  smoke,  soak  them  in  tolerably  hot  water  in  which  a  little  washing 
soda  has  been  dissolved.  Then  put  a  teaspoonful  of  powdered  ammonia  in  a  pan 
of  lukewarm  water,  and  with  a  hard  brush  scrub  the  globes  until  the  smoke  stains 
disappear.      ':  use  in  clean  cold  water.     They  wdl  be  as  white  as  if  new. 

Washing  Tidies.— I  will  tell  you  how  to  wash  your  tidies  worked  with  worsted 
and  white  Java  canvas.  W.ish  in  cold  water.  Cistern  water  is  preferable.  Make 
a  little  suds  with  hard  soap,  rinse  thoroughly,  and  blue.  Never  put  worsted  in 
warm  water. 

If  those  interested  in  blacking  stoves  will  try  greasing  them  with  fresh  gre.ise  before 
blacking,  they  will  find  that  it  prevents  them  from  rusting.  Add  a  pinch  of  brown 
sug.ir  to  blacking  just  before  applying.  This  causes  it  to  slick,  and  it  polishes  much 
easier  and  with  half  the  usual  rubbing. 

If  a  stove  is  well  rubbed  every  day  with  a  newspaper,  the  blacking  will  long 
remain  on.  '^  ^ 

New  Kettles.-To  remove  the  iron  taste  from  new  kettles,  boil  a  handful  of 
nay  in  then,,  and  repeat  the  process,  if  r.  .essary.  Hay  water  is  a  great  sweetener 
of  .in  wooden  and  iron  ware.  In  Lisa  JaMi....,  evr:ything  used  f.r  milk  is  seal  l.d 
with  hay  w;,;   r. 

LMBROIDERY.-Kmbroidery  silks  -h„.M  !•.  di.ped  in  we..k  ammonia  before 
using  in  or<ler  to  set  the  color,  and  articles  embroidered  or  knit  in  worsted  should 
never  be  washed  in  anything  stronger  than  brSti  and  water.  A  little  ox  gall  mixed 
«itn  the  water  will  keep  the  colors  from  running,  unless  the  work  is  rubbed  or 
wrung. 

If  Pictures  are  hung  by  worsted  cord,  brush  it  often  with  the  broom  that  is 
kept  for  walls.  Lambrequins,  if  of  woollen  fabric,  ought  to  be  brushed  every  few 
d;ys.  ■' 

Tiie13est  Glove  Ci.eaner.-MIx  one-fourth  ounce  carbonate  of  ammonia,  one- 
T'  .-!.i  ounrr  fluid  thiorofurni,  one  foiirth  oi.mce  sulphuric  ether,  one  quart  distilled 
ucnzine.     Pour  out  a  small   quantity  in  a  saucer,  put  on  gloves  and  wash  as  if 


VALUABLE  U0MF.    KNOWLEDGE. 


557 


blacking  will  long 


woshh^  the  hands.  cha„  i„g  solution  unlil  gloves  are  clean ,  lake  on;  squeexe  them 
replace  on  hands  and  with  a  ck-an  clolh  lulHinuers   etc    until  .Iwv         ,  ,       ' 

|v«,,^„.,.„.  .„,.,,,„„,„ „„„,i„,;- 

u  peifeclly  harmless  to  the  most  delicate  tints.     Anpiv  with  n  .  ft  ^"-ner, 

gently  unfl  spots  disappear.     Care  mu.  be  take^^ 'il:     I  lUt^t^ 
2nie  IS  very  inflammable.  '    '  ""-  '''^"• 

To  Wash  .Sii.K.-.Silk  will  wash  as  follows:    Mix  quarter  of  t  n„„n,1  .f  >, 

^:i:^i^: ""  ^^'"^  "■ '-'  '■^-^  ^  "-^  ^^  ^^^^  -^ '--  ^--  p^p^^ 
-ri;^:;:^rtt;Ti:;r::;;::;::;-;;;:-^ 

warm  w.ter.  sp.nkle  each  brush  with  plenty  of  powder,    borax    nd  rlf.   e   w' 

over  the  bristles.     Keep  the   back  of  ihe  brush  as   dry  a^   possible      ShL  ,K 
watery,,. ..and  dry  quickly  in  .he  sun.     Brushes  waled  .^^^ay  ^Jil^t-: 

CoMns  AND  Brushes  should  be  kept  well  cleane-l.     A  very  .asv  method  is  t, 
scour^them  .n  strong  warm  ammonia  water,  shake  well,  and  .;y  inthe  sun  .n  th^ 

Dish  \yASH.NG.-I  am  truly  sorry  for  those  young  housekeepc  s  who  hate  to  wash 
greasy  cbshe,.  A  few  directions  which  I  will  give.  sin,ple  as  thcv  seem.  11  i", 
lowed,  help  to  le.ssen  the  disagreeableness  of  this  dreaded  duty'  1  would  fit 
d.sh  pan  half  full,  or  nearly  so.  with  water  as  hot  as  you  can  I  r  the  hal  t 
Take  enough  so..p  to  make  a  slight  suds;  pt.t  in  the  dishes,  ha  mg  a  clean  dish 
c  o  h  Wash  them  .nd  turn  them  into  a  pan.  and  pour  hot  water  over  them  U 
turn  them  mto  another  pan  to  drain  ;  take  another  clean  dish  to.  1  to  wipe  them 
with,  and  they  w.U  wipe  so  quickly  and  easily  you  will  be  surpris  '  If  you  will 
put  water  ,nto  the  ,x.ts  and  kettles  as  soon  as  emptied,  they  will  b.  leaked  so  tha. 
they  will  wash  easily  by  the  time  you  are  ready  for  them 

Smoke  STA.NKt,  WALLs.-Wash  the  walls  with  a  common  wl.    wash  brush.   ' 
d.p,>ed  in  a  soluMon  of  ten  cents'  worth  of  pulverized  white  vitriol  d  .solved  in  two 
quarts  of  cold  water.     It  may  take  more  than   that  to  wash  over  thoroughly  the 
snTioke-stained   walh,  but  that   is  the   right  proportion  (ten  cents' w.r.h  of  white 
vitno   to  two  quarts  of  col.l  water).     Let  ,t  dry  over  night,  and  the  nex-  day  put  on 

1  tnn  tZ  riT^l  "•      r;  ''"' '  '""'^-""'  '^^^■'^•'•"'^ "'  "^^'^  -^    ''-'  ">"> 

a  pail,  then  hi  the  pail  with  hot  water.  Cover  up  closely,  and  let  it  stern  until  ,he 
I.me  IS  entirely  dissolved,  stirring  occa.sionally.  When  dissolved  add  t  the  wish 
five  cents'  wor.h  of  painter's  blue.  Stir  all  thoroughly  together,  and  ap  :>ly  with  a 
common  whitewash  brush.  It  will  not  nib  off,  and  Is  as  cU-ar'and  wrife  a.s  the 
finest  kalsomming.  One  twenty-cen.  -  kage  of  white  rock  lime  will  make  wash 
enough  to  whiten  three  rooms  14  by  10.      '.frs.  H.  W.  Beechtr. 


% 


i 


t.     :l 


558 


THE   COMPLETE   HOME. 


ies 


To  Ci.F.AN  Rlack  Ci.oth  or  Si  IK.— Sponge  with  warm  wafer,  or  cufTee  with 
.immonia  in  it;  press  on  tlic  wrong  sulo.  If  the  silk  is  thin,  add  a  little  sugar  to 
the  cleaning  water. 

To  Ri-.MOVK  (IREASE  Sl'OTS.— Saturate  with  ammonia  and  press  with  a  hot  iron 
over  brown  paper. 

One  ounce  of  borax,  dissolved  in  a  pint  of  boiling  water,  is  also  excellent  for 
removing  grease  spots. 

Borax  Water,  as  above,  with  the  addition  of  a  few  drops  of  oil  of  myrrh,  or 
spirits  of  camphor,  is  far  better  for  the  teeth  than  any  bought  denlilrice;  it  keeps 
them  clean  and  sound. 

Remove  white  spots  from  furniture  by  rubbing  with  camphene.  Scratches  can 
be  taken  from  varnish  by  rubbing  w^'h  kerosene.  A  bruise  will  yield  to  a  hot  iron 
pressed  over  wet  flannel.  Unvarnr,lied  furniture  can  be  polished  with  beeswax  and 
turpentine.  Clean  glass  with  ammonia.  Clean  wall-paper  with  stale  bread.  The 
most  obdurate  stains  in  white  goods,  as  ink  or  fish-blood,  can  be  removed  by  soak- 
ing the  article  in  sour  milk  for  several  d.ays,  rubbing  well  each  morning  and  chang- 
ing  the  milk;  keep  it  in  the  sun  meanwhile.  Silt  and  lemon  rubbed  on  rust  stains 
will  generally  remove  them;  half  an  ounce  of  oxalic  acid  in  a  pint  of  soft  water, 
kept  well  corked,  is  a  good  mixture  for  removing  rust  stains.  It  is  very  poisonous, 
and  should  be  well  cashed  from  the  goods.  This  preparation  is  dangerous  to  keep 
where  there  are  servants  or  children,  for  fear  of  accidents. 

Tar,  pit..h  and  turpentine  can  be  removed  by  soaking  in  sv/eet  oil,  or  melted 
tallow,  or  lanl. 

Paint  can  be  removed  by  rubbing  with  spirits  of  turpentine. 

If  ink  is  spilled  on  a  carpet,  lift  the  carpet  at  once,  draw  the  stained  portion  over 
(I  i«ail,  and  pour  cold  water  slowly  through  it.  This  is  good  treatment  for  any  article 
with  wet  ink. 

,  ^  RlinioNS  AND  Sli.K  can  be  cleaned  by  sponging  with  lukewarm  suds,  rubbing  both 
ildes,  and  dry  by  winding  very  tight  around  a  bottle. 

White  Ci.otiie.s  which  have  yellowed  from  lying  should  be  wrung  out  of  suds 
?nd  laid  on  the  grass  in  the  sun  for  several  days.  When  washing,  hang  up  all  the 
clothes  wrong  side  out,  the  white  ones  in  broad  sunshine,  the  colored  ones  ahunvs 
iu  the  shade.  JJ/uiUrts  are  better  dried  on  a  windy,  cloudy  day.  Calicofs  should 
bew.ashed  in  a  tliin  perfectly  clean  suds— not  in  the  suds  after  white  clothes;  rub  no 
soap  on  them,  but  rinse  in  one  clear  water  and  one  bluing  w.ater. 

When  any  kind  of  cotton  or  linen  clothing  is  laid  away  f.)r  a  few  months,  it 
should  neither  be  blued,  starched  nor  ironed,  but  well  w.ished  and  rinsed  through 
two  clear  waters  and  put  away  rough-dry  and  neatly  folded;  this  preserves  the  color 
ttnd  fiiire  of  the  goods  so  that  they  l.ist  much  longer. 

House  Insects,  etc.— No  insect  which  usually  infests  the  house  and  crawN 
over  the  floors  or  wood  work  can  live  under  the  application  of  hot  alum  water.  It 
will  destroy  red  and  black  ttnts,  cockroaches,  spiders  and  chinchbugs.  Take  two 
pounds  of  alum  and  dissolve  if  in  three  or  four  quarts  of  boiling  water.  I,cf  it 
stand  on  the  fire  until  the  alum  is  all  melted,  then  apply  it  with  a  brush  (while 
nearly  boiling  hot)  to  every  joint  and  crevice  in  your  closets  bedsteads,  pantry 
shelves,  etc.  If,  in  whitewashing  a  coiling,  plenty  of  alum  is  added  to  the  white, 
wash,  it  will  keep  oil  insects. — American  Garden. 


weet  oil,  or  melted 


1  suds,  nibbing  both 


VALUABLE  HOME  KWOU'LEDGE. 
A    FEW   THINGS    TO   REMEMBER. 


569 


will  l«  ,«,o„,,.     Tl,;.  a„i.fc  e.,  be  .„,™,.a  ^1:^ f,::^,-"'''""^'"'""'''-  « 

C<,AL  Asins.-The  best  purpose  to  which  coal  ashes  can  be  applied   in  -nun 
coinury,   ,s  ,„  making  gardon-walks.     If  well  hid   down    n  "^ 

.,w,  and  b,  use  they  become  as  solid  ^^IX^Z^:!:::^  ^  «"-  ^^"' 

as  a  nun>bo,-  of  chamomile  plants  dispersed  throuL-h  it      N  ,  *^"  '" 

^..e  should  ever  be  without'it.  in  a  grL  o.'  t^^^J^,  eil^^r;  l^::  I^r; 
W.11  answer.  It  ,,  a  sn,gular  fact  that  if  a  plant  is  .hooping  and  npparen  ly  ,  1 
.n  mnc  cases  out  often  it  will  recover  if  you  plan,  chamomile  near  It  ^    ^' 

EcoNOMY.-A  pnulent  and  economical  housewife  will  make  a  s'oup  of  bits  of 
.1  meat  and  the  broken  bones  of  a  fowl,  flavored  with  an  onion,  a  ca.rot   .  d 
l'.t  of  parsley,  that  wdl  prove  more  savory  than  a  soup  of  thrice  the  cc  st  nnde  Iv  I 
careless  hand.     From  the  toughest  parts  of  a  fat  and   •  elLflavored  piece  of        7 
mutton,  she  wl,  compound  s.ews  and  potted  dishe.  that  wiU:;      ieM    f:  .:; 
there  are  choicer  bits  to  be  had  on  any  terms  *" 

CKMKXT  FOR  G,.ASS.-Cement  for  glass  io  be  used  without  heating  the  glass- 
a.  In, lass  ,n  water  to  a  creamy  consistency,  and  add  a  little  alcohol.^  Ceme  m  o 
l)e  warmed  before  usin".  --c"icni  lo 

To  Makk  Mats  ,4  ti,f.  TAn,.,.:._Tnke  small   sticks  of  black  walnut   ,nd 

.    w.d.h.     Place  them  alternately  .and  glue  to  a  piece  of  heavy  cloth.     They  ca     >e 
-    round,  square,  d.amond-shaped  or  any  other  pretty  way.  and,  whe       .rn  I 
make  ,piite  a  pretty  orn.nmental  mat.  v.unisnecl, 

T.>  Ma,<k  To„n,,  fiKK,^TKNn.cu._To  those  who  have  worn  down  their  teeth 
masticating  poor,  old.  tough  cow-beef,  we  will  say  that  carbonate  „f  «  n 

found  t  remecly  for  the  evil.     Cut  your  steaks  the  d  f  '  *'"  '" 

.wo  inches  thick  ;  rub  them  over  w^h^  ::i^  I^,        1^Z^Zr::^t^ 
."«.  cut  i,.o  su:.,,le  thicknesses  and  cook  to  nltion.  ^The  I^^^^^Z^. 

nmes  .after  wh.ch  son,e  new  lime  must  be  used,  as  at  firs,,    'a  teaspoc.  f      ;        , 

,     "•„?,^'-""'"'y  ^"'  ^■'^'■''-"•'  »'>n'mer  complaint;    also  for  aci.lity  oMhe 

on-h.     When  ad.led  ,o  milk  it  has  no  unpleasam  tas.e.  and  when         i  .Ik 

Ihat  would  otherwise  cnr.lle  when  heated,  i,   nrov.,,..  ..,..,.,,■ „  ,J  "    '  , 

-dfor  ,,udd.ng,  and  pies.  A  small  quantity'of  it  wilfp^ven;  ihe  .;;.rni,;;"  ^f 
cream  and  n,dk  I,  „|s„  sweetens  and  purifies  bottles  which  have  confined  milL 
Some  add  a  cupful  tu  a  sponge  of  bread  to  prevent  i,  from  .curing 


i, 


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■It  ^ 


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HousEiroi.D  Conveniences.— "A  place  for  everything,  and  everything  in  its 

place,"  is  rather  a  hackneyed  saying;  but,  after  all,  it  perfectly  Jescrihes  the  domain 

of  a  good  housekeeper.     As  much  attention  should  lie  given  to  the  kitchen  as  to 

any  other  part  of  the  house  ;  a  busy  housewife  spends  a  large  amount  of  time  in 

that  room,  and  she  should  strive  to  render  it  a  pleasure,  and  not  a  dread,  to  enter  it. 

A  great  convenience  in  a  kitchen  is  a  roomy  wall-pocket.     It  may  be  made  very 

nic.ly   of    common    brown   card-board,    bound   with   scarlet   braid,   having   three 

pockets— a  large  one  at  the  bottom  and  two  smaller  ones  above.     In  the  larger  out 

may  be  put  dusters,  towels,  etc. ;  in  the  others  string,  rag  for  cuts,  and  other  small 

articles.     Another  convenience  is  a  hag  for  dirty  towels  and  dusters,  which  may 

hang  in  a  closet  in  the  kitchen.     It  saves  much  time  and  labor  on  a  washing  day. 

Always  have  a  match-safe  and  scraper  in  the  kitchen.      It  saves  much  disfigurement 

of  the  walls.     Get  your  tinman  to  make  you  tin-boxes,  with  tight-fitting-lids,  to 

hold  yeast-cakes,  tea,  coffee,  and  spices.     They  preserve  the  flivor.     A  large  apron, 

made  of  oil-cloth  and  bound  with  braid,  is  useful  when  washing  clothes  or  dishes. 

Squares  of  zinc  or  tin  are  useful  in  the  kitchen  for  standing  sauccp  ,.•    on.     If  you 

are  without  ice  in  the  summer,  keep  drinking  water  in  unglazed  earthenware  jars 

or  pitchers.     The  evaporation  and  condensation  on  the  oulsiiie  of  the  jar  will  keep 

its  contents  cold. 

To  Preserve  Meat.— Roil  together  one  quart  good  vinegar,  two  ounces  of  salt, 
two  ounces  of  sugar ;  when  cold  w.-ish  the  meat  over  with  this  mixture. 

Oatmeal  in  the  Household.- In  Great  Britain  children  of  all  ranks  a»j 
raised  on  an  oatmeal  diet,  alone,  because  it  ';auses  them  to  grow  strong  and  healthful, 
and  no  better  food  can  possibly  be  found  for  them.  It  is  also  quite  .as  desirable  for 
the  student  as  the  laborer,  and  fur  the  delicate  lady  as  for  the  hard-working 
sister;  indeed,  all  classes  would  be  greatly  benefited  by  its  use,  and  dyspepsia,  with 
all  its  manifold  annoyances,  can  be  kept  at  a  safe  distance.  Oatmeal  is  most  sub- 
stantial food;  it  is  equal  to  beef  or  mutton,  giving  .is  much  or  more  mental  vigor, 
while  its  great  desiileratum  consists  of  one's  not  becoming  weary  of  it,  for  it  is  .s 
welcome  for  breakfast  or  tea  as  is  wheat  or  Graham  bread.  It  can  be  eaten  with 
syrup  and  butter,  as  hasty  pudding,  as  with  cream  and  sugar,  like  rice.  It  is 
especially  good  for  young  motherS  upon  whose  nervous  forces  too  great  a  demand 
has  been  made,  when  they  lose  the  equilibrium  of  the  system  and  become  depresst.l 
and  dispirited.  Oatmeal  requires  to  be  cooked  slowly,  and  the  water  should  brt 
boiling  hot  when  it  is  stirred  in. 

To  Preserve  Dead  GAME.-Take  out  the  intestines,  fill  the  inside  with 
unground  wheat,  and  place  the  fowl  in  a  heap  or  cask  of  the  same  grain  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  insure  its  being  covered.  In  this  way  fowls  may  be  kept  perfectly 
«weet  for  months.  The  feathers  should  he  removed.  Or,  fill  the  cavity  with  char- 
coal .ind  a  little  salt ;  rub  the  exterior  with  salt,  pin  up  in  a  linen  towel  nn.l  hang 
in  a  dark,  airy  place.  Wipe  it  .Iry  before  filling  it.  Any  kind  of  meat  will  keep 
longer  in  hot  weather,  if  it  i»  put  in  an  earthen  jar,  sprinkled  with  charcoal,  and 
covered  with  netting  to  admit  air  and  keep  out  flics. 

An  ordinary  flour  or  apple  barrel  will  smoke  four  or  five  moderate-sized  hams  or 
shoulders.  Both  heads  are  removed  and  a  mo-  alile  cover  provided  for  the  lop. 
This  may  be  of  boards,  or  an  old  oil-cloih  or  tight  blanket  will  answer.  A  short 
trench  is  dug  in  which  is  laid  n  length  of  old  stovepipe.  A  larger  excavation  is  then 
made,  in  which  a  pan  of  burning  cobs  or  chips  can  be  placed.    This  is  covered  by  a 


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'-  barrel,  and  over  the  stovepipe  to  k     p  a7^,  u      t  "'  "°'""'  '"^  ''""-^  of 

cioth  or  blanket.     On  placing  a  pan  o,  ZkZl^^     p"""'  "^'•^'  -"-  -  "^ 
the  smoke  passes  through  the    toveoin;  m    f,  "'''  '"  '^"^  P'»=e  provided 

-oke.     Should  the  .up'port  of  ;  e  T     L  H'  ^'"^  "  ^^'•"'  ^  '^'^       ' 

-:^'"™.ti..he.eorashes.a:s:^S-^-^^^^^ 

FOR    HOUSE    PLANTS. 

The  CALI.A  Lily  blooms  at  three  years      T  i 
a  hole  .„  the  bot.on,,  put  the  lily  i„  ,/j  fi,  "the    a^th^     "'^  """'^"  ^'''  -''h°«' 
fill  w.th  warm  water  in  which  you  have  nut  a  f^^         "'""'■'"■'  '"""  °^  ""^'^  ^arlh; 
--room;  give  as  much  .ight  and  I  pos^:, 'Z;  1  '""^r''  "^-P  ^^  in  a 

.    Slugs  on  liEcoNus.-Slugs  are  occasionnll  '^^""^  "^  ^^"^^• 

'"  ;he  leaves  of  all  succulents' and  ^Z:^^^  '^'7  '^^««  ""'-  "^  notches 
Cut  potatoes,  turnips  or  some  other  fleshT  e.el  7  ""'1  '  ''""  '"""^  "'^  "'ght. 
■en.ly  near  the  plants.     The  slugs  w      g'th  f  T  '''''"'  ='"''  P'^^  ^o"ve„. 

<^estroyed.  ^   *'"  S'^"'"  "PO"  the  vegetable,  and  are  easily 

-^c;e  ^-^t:!:::  t:::zzz"  r'-  ^^'-  ^^'^ «-  --- 

P'n».  When  cold  the  strained  liq  id  s "e  I' f  "^'"' •'"'^  ''-'  ^'-n  to  r,v« 
vvatermg  pot  or  syringe.  ^  "''^  '^°''  "^^-  either   by  means  of  a 

White  Worms ti        i.- 

P'-.s  are  kept  i„  potr:;t'U:vTd  Ts'tV""";"^^'"-"^  »"  ^''^  -he. 
-1,  or  sprinkle  a  little  slacked  lime  o„  h  rh""  'T""'  """  ""^'^^  ''-•  "- 
L.me  water  may  be  easily  made  by  slacking.  iT  '"  ""=  ^''"'^^^  °^  "'«  P«t. 

-ter.  letting  this  settle,  and  then  LttlL;  fh  leTrVa'trf"'  '""" '"  '^  '''  °^  -'<« 
tablespoonful  twice  a  week.  "«  clear  water  for  use.     Give  each  pot  a 

wuh  a  kn.fe,  turn  upside  down    nd  shake  oltut     """I,  "^^  '""^  ''*  "''^  P°*  ''''l" 
all  the  loose  earth,  take  a  new  po..  set  the  ^Lt    '''""'  f"  "'^'"^'^  «''^^^'  ^''"''e  off 
we  1.  heap  on  fresh  soil,  and  ke  p  n  h    s^  1""^  ;?:^'="'\^-''  "'"^  "bout  it.  soalc 
Soit.    FOR    I.„T    p,._.         '        '""^  ■  "'^"e  for  two  or  three  d.iys. 

manure.one.half  chips  or    rhJoTrjrn"'"'"'""    ""'   ""^'■''"-'-  -^ll-rotted 
-e.    If  the  commr  .,  is  clay^'l^ '  Sh";:;:r:S^^^^^^^  ^ 


HOME   AMUSEMENTS. 


Do  not  begrudge  the  family  inn-^e-it  -r--  - 
abundant  sorrows  and  regrets -let' the      oT""-     "^"^  '''"«• 

disc  as  possible-a  blessed  ol;  ^'  "'"'^  '''^^  ^^^*' 

^         e-a  blessed  oas.s  .n  memory.    For  small  children,  toys 


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simple  ones,  or  home-made,  or  those  which  they  are  helped  to  malce 
for  themselves,  are  the  very  best.  Let  boys  have  some  kind  of  a  work- 
shop, and  give  girls  a  work-basket,  round-end  scissors  and  a  plenty 
of  material  for  inventions  or  experiments.  Let  them  have  musical 
instruments,  if  possible,  if  there  is  musical  taste;  pencils,  patterns, 
drawing-paper  and  paints,  if  they  like  art.  Give  them  a  boat,  if  you 
can,  if  they  are  by  a  pond  or  creek;  let  them  go  fishing  and  pic- 
nicing,  when  it  is  suitable.  Croquet,  ball  and  out-of-door  games, 
with  a  pole  and  bar  for  gymnastics,  add  much  to  the  likelihood  of 
keeping  active  children  peaceably  at  home.  Puzzles,  dissected  maps, 
checkers,  chess,  dominoes,  the  game  of  authors,  fox  and  geese  and 
jackstraws  all  help,  with  useful  and  pleasant  books,  to  pass  evenings, 
holidays  and  rainy  days  cheerfully;  while  they  do  their  part  in 
developing  self-sacrifice,  courtesy,  ingenuity  and  quickness  of  thought. 

Let  the  children  have  an  occasional  "candy-pull,"  a  time  of  nut- 
cracking,  corn-popping  and  apple-roasting:  life  will  move  more 
smoothly  for  the  whole  family  by  the  help  of  such  occasions  of  mirth 
and  social  pleasure. 

In  winter,  skates  and  sleds  should  not  be  denied :  they  are  good 
for  both  boys  and  girls.  Sleds  can  be  of  home  manufacture  if  money 
is  scarce,  and  children  will  find  means  by  self-denial  and  industry  to 
buy  their  own  skates,  if  they  are  allowed  reasonable  time  to  use  them. 
When  a  gun  is  permitted,  a  lad  should  not  be  allowed  to  keep  it 
Joadcd  in  the  house,  nor  to  clean  it  where  the  family  are  gathered, 
nor  to  shoot  indiscriminately  at  birds  and  harmless  creatures;  he 
should  be  taught  carefulness,  humanity  and  explicit  obedience  in  the 
use  of  his  gun.  Encourage  all  children  to  pursue  gardening.  Lead 
them  on  pleasantly  in  it,  as  says  H.  Ward  Beecher,  thus : 

"  If  n  boy  should  set  out  to  raise  flowers  it  is  desirable  that  he  should  have  floweri 
that  are  easy  to  raise,  and  are  profuse  in  their  blossom.  A  boy  that  can  bury  a 
chipmunk  after  he  is  dead  can  plant  a  gladiolus,  and  aftor  they  are  once  planted 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  keep  the  bed  weeded  ;  and  as  soon  as  they  bios- 
•cm  they  are  so  gorgeous  that  the  boy  is  sure  to  be  very  proud  of  them.  You  can 
get  them  for  a  few  cents  apiece,  and  so  can  furnish,  for  a  dollar  or  two,  a  bed  of 
gladiolas  that  will  blossom  more  than  two  months,  and  be  pre-eminently  gorgeous. 
Th-T!  gire  him  a  liiiic  iiniruciion,  and  let  him  try  something  else  :  u  tow  of  [Kippics, 
perhaps— they  sow  the.nselves.     Get  the  French  poppy,  which  is  single,  but  runs 


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*rough  the  most  exquisite  range  of  color    .11         u-  ^^^ 

A.SO  the  perennial  po'ppy.  whicfsl^becre  eS  -^a  "  I"^'  ^T'  ""  '•"^■^^-• 
•hey  are  so  gorgeous  that  every  one  who  comes  Lea  th  .  '  ""''  '"  "'^'^  •^'"^' 
glasses,  as  it  were!  They  fill  \  child's  eye  The.  T  I"'  '°  ^"'  °"  ^^""^"^-l 
cess.     Every  one  admires  thera  •  .„d  th7   .H        ^-        '^°''  ''""  '^  "^'''g^ificent  sue 

boy.  who  goes  through  that  oneVulerd  fir:"  "'""  "'^  ^'"''■"°"-  "T'- 
what  he  has  done,  has  generally  got  the  hortic  Uura  7  ""  ^P°"'— 'X  Poising 
caught  it  he  never  recovers  -  ■'  "lofticullural  fever;  and  when  he  has  once 

HINTS   ON   SEWING   AND   MENDING 

-,  because  the  ^: !^:T::::zr' Ti '''-'  ''-^  -- 

while  they  are  thunselves  ignora      of  J  ,    ''''/''''''''  ''''''' 
-t,  fit,  baste  or   finish   a^Tl      s   'J  '''''''''''''''' '^ 

^'^eir  popularity  by  an^gno^err  ^ZrZ^TT  T' 
machine.     The  needle  h.<=  .i  ,  '  ^^  "^""^  ^^y  a 

-d  an, .,  u:r;it::':r:,:n "':  '"'""■"'  "'-- 

and  old ,  she  ha,  ,va,de,l  J  "'"""^  """S»  ""' 

crea.d  .^ch  o^o        :   ZsZZr  '""'"  '"'  ^""'"^^  '- 
ably  indepe„d.„>.     Tru  '     "re  L      r'""""  """'""  ""-"--P-'- 

woman  q„  Jio„      W tan  "  "    '"'""  '""  '"  ""=  "-<«"=■ 

H    siiuii.      wiiat  an  autocrat  was   the  eklerlv  ,^  ■  i 

went  from  house  to  house  in  our  childhood   tlf  "  "'° 

maker  of  the  whole  neitrhborhnrwi         ,  '°°'^'  "^^  ^^''^--^^^  or  ^ress- 
and  fashions !  "'^'S'^'^-'--^.  ^.ghest  authority  on  both  news 

Darning  is  an  important  part  of  sewinrr      t  n    r 
towels,  sheets,  pi„ow-cases,  hLdk    c     TLs™:,      ",;  T^'^'''"^' 
in  clothing  should  be  neatly  ^anu,-  thi    ki,Ki    f         r"        "''''' 
and  lasts  long.  "'^  ""^  '"'="^'"6  'ooks  well, 

or  *r:;:; '::::;  tt'z  r  ^  '^^""  *°-"  -  ">=  -^ 
--j:rro:;,:r:h:ri:i-- 


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frayed  at  the  edges,  should  be  mended  and  re-bound ;  blankets, 
where  broken,  should  be  darned,  and  the  edges  bound  or  hemmed. 
Sheets  with  small  breaks  can  be  darned ;  a  patch  sometimes  avails  for 
a  long  time ;  a  double  sheet  can  be  made  to  double  its  existence  by 
overhanding  the  selvedge  edges  together,  tearing  down  the  centre  of 
the  slieet,  and  hemming  it  to  become  the  outer  edge. 

A  Worn-out  Double  Sheet  will  often  cut  over  to  advantage  for  a 
single  bed  or  crib,  or  its  good  portions  will  make  a  pillowcase  for 
servants'  beds,  and  the  worst  portions  make  good  hemmed  cloths  for 
use  in  covering  articles  in  pantry  and  store-closet,  or,  doubled  and 
run  together,  make  good  dusters.  A  small  sheet  descends  also  honor- 
ably to  these  uses. 

AVoRN-ouT  Tadle-Cloths,  which  have  prolonged  their  existence 
by  virtue  of  neat  darns,  can  become  common 'napkins,  or  make — the 
edges  being  fringed — very  soft  towels  for  infants  and  invalids,  and 
fringed  or  hemmed  are  valuable  for  covering  meats,  cakes  and  pies  in 
the  store-closet. 

Old  Towels,  when  darning  them  has  ceased  to  be  a  virtue,  can 
be  doubled  and  run  together  for  dusters,  or  the  best  parts  can  be  cut 
out  and  made  up  double  for  wash-cloths  for  the  toilette. 

Old  AVoollen  and  Flannel  Clothes  have  not  only  their 
ordinary  use  as  sewed  into  carpet-rags,  but  they  can  be  cut  in  strips 
and  crocheted  or  braided  into  mats,  or  can  be  made  into  dusting, 
floor  and  cleaning-cloths. 

Worn-out  Stockings  can  be  neatly  made  over  by  cutting  off  the 
heels  and  soles,  taking  as  much  length  from  the  toe  as  you  cut  off  at 
the  heel,  and  making  new  soles.  One  pair  can  be  taken  for  making 
soles  to  three  or  four  other  pair. 

Flannels,  worn  out  for  winter  use,  can  sometimes  be  reconstructed 
for  summer  or  night  use  by  cutting  out  the  necks,  removing  the 
sleeves,  binding  them  with  bias  muslin,  and  darning  the  thin  places. 

Dresses,  which  look  very  sliabby  and  worn  out,  can  be  rejuve- 
■  nated  by  ripping,  bnishing,  sponging,  pressing,  adding  new  facing 
and  braid,  putting  on  fresh  buttons  and  some  other  trimming,  and 
re-working  the  button-holes. 


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VALUABLE  HOME   KNOWLEDGE 

^oid  r^CaXr"  ^'  ""^"""^^  -<*  --^^'^  ^«-.  win 

The  buttons  and  strings  should  never  be  allowed  ,„ 
-OHS  as.„es„oes  are  .bus  ruined  by  twisting  a  r,;™"',"  "" 
ll.e  clothes,  a,  dresses,  eoats  and   sk.rts,  of  elder  ne 
usefully  nude  over  for  younger  ones.     Old  ,v  "  '7""  T"  '" 
will  make  up  neatly  into  aprons  or  serve  ,1,  '''"'" 

or  make  ruffled  bed-room  lal;;  l^  ""  ':"""  '"'""' 

general  thing,  be  much  better  Z^d  and  b        T     "■°""''  ^"  '•' 
tastefully  decorated    if  ,1  f  "  """  '"""•''i  ""'O 

*ings:Hicr:r;vr:::7  "^' "  ""^'""'  ^'°"  '■"'^— 
.he"::::! k°zr ""  ""■  ^"^  -  *-  -  -or «.  soo„  a, 

c.ot;''cri;d:"  :z :::::  ^-t  '-  ">  -^^  *-■  "»<■"- 

to  retritn  a  ha.  for  a"     '  '''«--"1 -=■«•  and  also  ho,v 

.-..er  taste  in  bon     t    ,ak    '    Z'""  "^"^     ""^  '""'"  "^  '- 
milliners,  and  are  li  e  v  to  fn  ""r^"  '"'  "'^  ''"""'"y  "' 

faces,  and  have  less    f    ^  n       ^  ^  T\  """'  '""""^  ""  °"" 
Acp,  besides  savin,  i„  ,7  ° ''™''"="''"»  °"l«  "■""'ter', 

arti    e.     AladT?bo;n       7'"'""°"  ""^ '"'' "■=  ""-  °^  ">' 
dall  in  ,n      H  ""■ '"  ""■  'i'  ""''  ""»  her  dress  etn 

MI    in  an  ordinary  seamstress,  and,  by  her  helo  on  rh,         ,' 
make  in  a  week  several  j  ,  *         ™  machrne, 

-  Charged  ^  Zt^ ^Lt  dl:  .^h""""'  "- 

c..n<.ri:'!r:,:::;:g::::'rn,:t:h'''°r"''-  •-'^'"'  ^'■"■^'«'^  ^" 
^:^:r  :£------:::: 

regarded  especially  i„  ^  "d  -     '""    ''"  ""'  ^'""'^  ""' 

_  1      ^"yn  girlb    and  women's  clothes,  wh^rp  ,  ...„™..^. 

-  wcght  at  the  waist  is  most  dangerous. 


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A   FEW   SIMPLE   REMEDIES. 

Toothache  may  be  speedily  and  delightfully  ended  by  the  application  c*  a 
small  bif  of  cotton,  saturated  in  a  strong  solution  of  ammonia,  to  the  defective  tooth, 
P'OR  Faceache,  or  Swollen  Face,  administer  six  drops  of  ammonia  ji  a 
tablespoonful  of  water;  make  a  poultice  of  hops  anil  flour,  or  meal,  or  simply  of 
bjiled  hops,  and  put  it  on  the  face,  covering  with  flannel.  A  quiet,  dark  room  and 
a  sleep  will  complete  a  cure. 

For  Acute  Neuralgia  of  the  Eve  or  Head,  bathe  the  part  in  warm  water 
strongly  impregnated  with  laudanum ;  Keep  cloths  wrung  out  from  this  mixture  lying 
covered  with  flannel  on  the  painful  place,  and  administer  ammonia  as  above  every 
half  hour,  or  one  tablespoon  of  amnioniated  valerian  every  four  hours. 

For  Hysterics,  or  Hysteric  Convulsions,  rub  the  spine  with  a  coarse 
towel,  put  hot  water  to  the  feet,  bind  poultices  of  mustard  and  flour  on  the  wrists 
and  ankles,  and  administer  the  ammoniated  valerian  as  above.  Remove  t\  corsets 
or  compressing  clothing.  In  these  cases  perfectly  calm  common-sense  is  needed 
to  control  the  patient;  the  nurse  should  be  firm  and  not  too  sympathetic. 

For  Croup,  administer  a  teaspoonful  of  strong  alum  water;  repeat  the  dose 
every  fifteen  minutes  until  free  vomiting  occurs.  Put  the  legs  in  hot  water  and 
then  wrap  up  in  flannel ;  place  on  the  chest  a  poultice  of  corn  meal  sprinkled  with 
mustard.  Beware  of  cold  draughts.  As  the  attack  departs,  administer  a  dose  of 
m.ignesia,  rhubarb  or  of  castor  oil.  Where  children  are  liable  to  croup,  alwayi; 
keep  the  alum  water  solution  ready  on  the  wash-stand. 

For  Severe  Vomiting,  after  the  stomach  seems  to  have  been  relieved  of  any 
irritating  substance,  put  at  the  feet  a  bottle  of  hot  water,  and  apply  to  the  stomach 
cloths  wrung  out  of  hot  vinegar  and  mustard ;  keep  the  patient  in  bed,  with  the 
head  comfortably  elevated,  apply  a  cloth  wet  in  cold  water  to  the  forehead,  and  keep 
a  handkerchief  wet  in  bay  rum,  cologne  or  champhor,  near  the  face.  Have  the 
air  pure ;  the  room  partially  darkened. 

Eruptions  on  the  face  in  spring,  or  occasioned  by  heated  blood,  may  be  cured 
by  washing  the  face  each  night  with  a  mild  solution  of  epsom  salts,  letting  it  dry 
on.  Take  one  ounce  cream  tartar,  one  ounce  epsom  salts,  mix  in  one  pint  cold 
water,  keep  in  a  cold  place,  and  take  a  dessertspoonful  three  times  daily:  this 
cleanses  the  blood  gradually,  and  purifies  the  complexion. 

For  DiniTiiERiA. — Strip  from  a  well-smoked  uncooked  ham  a  portion  of  the  skin, 
tearing  it  oiT  so  that  the  fat  grains  will  adhere.  Cut  this  to  fit  the  throat,  hollowing 
it  for  the  front,  and  allowing  a  portion  to  rise  high  up  to  each  ear.  Bind  this  on 
the  throat — the  greasy  side  next  the  flesh — and  renew  it  every  four  hours.  Admin- 
ister twenty  drops  of  murialed  linclure  of  iron  three  times  daily,  reducing  the  dose 
if  the  child  is  less  than  seven  years  old.  Gargle  the  throat  with  flowers  of  sulphur 
water,  or  blow  flowers  of  sulphur  gently  into  the  throat  through  a  quill,  or  burn  a 
minute  portion  of  sulphur  on  a  shovel  and  let  the  patient  inhale  the  fumes.  Repeat 
the  suljihur  treatment  three  times  daily.  Keep  the  patient  in  bed  ;  the  feet  warm  ;  the 
head  cool ;  the  room  we!i  aired — foul  air  is  death  in  diphtheria.  Let  the  food  be  ice 
cream,  or  dessertspoonfuls  of  cream,  or  jjure  calves'  foot  jelly,  or  raw  egg  and  loaf 
sugar  well  beaten  and  administered  half  an  egg  at  a  time  four  times  daily.  This 
treatment  we  believe  to  be  jw/rt/Z/ii/ir  in  diphtheria :  it  has  cured  the  most  oiistinate 
cuses.  And  il  the  lioitsc:  wlicie  the  tii-,eiiMe  a])pears  is  at  once  well  whilewasiieil, 
fumigated  well  with  sulphur  three  days  in  succession,  and  the  dr&inj,  urain  pipes 


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«nd  sewage  are  at  once  attended  to,  we  believe  there  i.  ,   ,  •,• 

proving  fatal  or  .sprea.ling:  ^M^/JriahaZl  Z  .  ''""'^^'""'y  °f  ">«  disease 
this  treatment  Kills  the  Xr/^:Z:/'Zf^:  ^^  ^"'^  -'"-  '•" 
blood  to  resist  them,  and  to  give  them  no  root-hl  '  ""^  ''""S"^^"''  "'« 

fumes.     Sulphur  fumes  or  garble  as  aive     so"T.  '''''^  ',"  ""'''''  ^"^  '"'-"=  '"« 
To  Cure  Hoarseness  -It  1    f'^^'^fo-     Burn  sulphur  in  fny  particles. 

-^>.  .he  White  of  an  z,  t^ii^  h::"^:^^  :;:i  r  ^"^^  '^  -"-^  ^^ 

A  teaspoonful  taken  occasionally  is  the  dose  ""'°"  J"'"*^  '''"'^  ^"g»^- 

Remedy  for  Ear  ^mr     tu 

When  a  child  has  .arache,  k«p  i,  warm  and  ,,„ie,  so„d,e  i, , 
songs,  by  stories,  and  by  rocking  i.  gentiv  .iv.    ^"'"'""""""'y 
mini,  er  a  few  drops  of  Lm„„,a       ^I    ' '  f,"  ."t  .7'"'  '«  "'■ 

co™  ™ca,  gr.,  giyc,.age„„e  ..c.  ::'::t:  Z::: 

and  f. he  a„ack  is  viCcn,  bind  a  hop-p„„„icc  over  ,he  ear.  Sri 
mg  Ihc  ear  w,,h  warm  CaM.  .cap  suds  and  sweet  oil  is  ™„d  7, 
carcfu,  wl,a.  y„„  ,„,,„,„  ,.,.,^„  ^„  « J  '  «  S"     •  b„.  be 

or  nndcr.a,„e  an  attack  of  earache;  i,  iraterrible    a  „,  ver  1  r 

ng      the  nerves,  and  might  produce  serions  result '.     ,(  chM     y" 

to  t  should  have  ,ts  ears  protected  from  cold  and  draughts  a,  d  ,« 

feci  kepi  dty  emj  want.  '         " 

hea,  touch  it;  then  npply  a  su"  m.      I    e     T"  '"'  ^^'"'•'"^•  '"'  '^'  ""  ""«--' 
rul-hcd  together  unti  'it  for     7 ,  dT   ""m       'T^'  '"'  "'"  «"""-''-. 

will  l,e  well.  '        '  ""'^  '"  '"'  "'■■'"  f°»'-  ''"urs  the  frozen  part* 

put  it  in  warn,  water       1  so  kvT.^  ft'  "!"  ""  '"  ^'"  °'  ^""^  ^""'^'^  "^^ 

hour.  '"'''  y°"'  '^^'^^  '"  "'  "»  ^-^">  «^  you  can  bear,  for  half  a. 

when  you  nwake.  rise    nd      ess  at  n  '''  "     '"'' '  «°  '°  ''"'  •-"  "  ^'^«"'-  '"'"^J 

^'^  in  .he  day.'  Thesr^:':,:;  :;;::;;:■;:;; ^r  r; '-  '^^  --"-  --' 

Cogs,  but  wil,  publis,     h     IZTZ  ';:i";"^"."--'  --  f-  'he  bites'of  mad 

Was.  the  wound  per.tiy  c.^iiSTr  ■:^r  t:;:::;/^  ^  xt   . 


s. 


t  ^'' 


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Afteiivard  pour  into  the  wound  a  few  drops  of  muriatic  acid,  for  mineral  acidi 
destroy  the  poison  of  the  dog's  saliva." 

The  best  remedy  for  bleeding  at  the  nose,  as  given  by  Dr.  Gleason,  is  the 
vigorous  motion  of  the  jaws,  as  if  in  the  act  of  mastication.  In  the  case  of  a  child 
a  small  wad  of  paper  Sould  be  put  In  the  mouth,  and  the  child  instructed  to  chew 
it  hard.  It  is  the  motion  of  the  jaws  that  stops  the  flow  of  blood.  This  remedy  is 
simple,  but  it  has  never  been  known  to  fail. 

Many  diseases  are  induced  in  summer,  and  sudden  deaths  occur, 

from  people  drinking  freely  of  cold  water  while  they  are  over-heated 

or  exhausted  from  work.    Dr.  Parker  gives  the  following  advice  as  to— 

The  Best  Drink  for  Laborers.—"  When  yov.  have  any  heavy  work  to  do,  do 
not  take  either  beer,  elder  or  spirits.  By  far  the  OLSt  drink  is  thin  oatmeal  and 
water  with  a  little  sugar.  The  proportions  are  a  q-iarter  of  a  pound  of  oatmeal  to 
two  or  three  quarts  of  water,  according  to  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  your  work,  and 
thirst.  It  should  be  well  boiled,  and  then  an  ounce  and  a  half  of  brown  sugar  added. 
If  you  find  it  thicker  than  you  like,  add  three  quarts  of  water.  Before  you  drink  it 
shake  up  the  oatmeal  .veil  through  the  liquid.  In  summer  drink  this  cold;  in 
winter  hot.  You  will  find  it  not  only  quenches  thirst,  but  will  give  you  more 
strength  and  endurance  than  any  other  drink.  If  you  cannot  boll  it,  you  can  take  a 
little  oatmeal  mixed  with  cold  v.atcr  and  sugar,  but  this  is  not  so  good.  Always 
boil  it  if  you  can.  If  at  any  tlm  ■  ou  have  to  make  a  long  day,  as  In  harvest,  and 
cannot  stop  for  meals,  increase  the  oatmeal  to  half  a  pound,  or  even  three-nuarters, 
and  the  water  to  three  quarts,  if  you  are  likely  to  be  very  thirsty.  If  you  cannot  get 
oatmeal,  wheat  flour  will  do,  but  not  quite  so  well." 

We  would  add  that  while  it  is  an  enormous  cruelty  and  dangerous  to 
life  to  force  a  horse  or  other  beast  to  labor  in  the  heat  without  drink, 
which  it  craves  as  much  as  a  man,  it  will  suffer  as  much  as  a  man  from 
a  sudden  cold  drink.  Give  the  working  beast  a  pailful  of  water  in 
which  a  tablespoonful  of  salt  and  a  quart  of  bran  are  stirred. 

For  a  Wound. — The  most  severe  wounds  can  be  treatwl  as  follows :  ragged 
wounds,  or  those  produced  by  a  nail,  or  blunt  rusty  iron,  thus  treated  will  be  sure  to 
heal,  while  otherwise  they  would  be  almost  certain  to  produce  lockjaw ;  soak  the 
wound  in  moderately  strong  lye— about  half  good  wood-ash  lye,  and  half  soft  water 
—until  all  stifl'ness  departs  and  the  swelling  is  reduced  ;  then  cover  it  with  the  lees  tf 
laudanum  (laudanum  sediment  procurable  from  a  druggist),  and  above  that  place  a 
poultice  made  of  corn  meal.  It  is  well  to  anoint  the  edges  of  the  wound  with 
castor  oil. 

For  a  Boii.,  or  Gathering,  an  excellent  poultice  is  made  by  pounding  the 
leaves  of  the  common  garden-pulse- which  children  pinch  and  blow  to  make  bags 
of— with  clean  lard  ;  add  a  few  drops  of  laud.     .mi. 

For  a  Burn,  a  good  poultice  is  made  by  pounding  smooth  the  well-washed  roots 
•f  the  swamp  cat-tail;  it  gives  almost  instant  relief. 

PouLTiciis  are  usually  better  for  the  addition  of  a  littlo  kweet  or  castor  oil,  and  a 
few  drops  of  laudanum. 


cid,  for  mineral  acidi 


VALUABLE  HOME  K'NOIVLEDGE. 


e  well-washed  roots 


:  or  castor  oil,  and  a 


569 

c'sz,r""  ^  ----  -'--/-nn;" -"lit 

lo  chapping  „e„  ,i„       j,,^^  j  .  ■  ■fiW.     If  h.iuls  £„„> 

i.  »i.h .  ,„..  „„.,,  po.,s,rs:;'Lt:k  f :  h ::  i"-  '-f  ?  ^  >■'"" 

with  castor  oil.  ""^  '"'^^  "oufs  and  then  dress 

..»;S:,;.'"''"  ''*°' '"  «'"■"•  •  >■»"'«  •'  p»»«<'«'  poi.= ™,  ,„,  „»„  „„ ,, 
w™,  :sr:-r;zc:;T  ""•""  "-■■ '"-" '-  '>'i»'«o„., 

to  the  nostrils;  when  consciousness  ,,'"„,        ."•'"'' "'^P'>' ''^^'^'^"f" 
s^';^  -  .n.     BO  not  sZ^SeSr  :ri;r  "  '^"  ^  ""'^'  -  ^"'^ 

rub  the  feet  and  hands  '  '°  "'^  '^''"  "PP'^  ^'"■"™'-  "^  W.J4, 

»prnU:n  He'Sr; fjitri''";  "■''"  """"•"  •"'"»•  •"-"•«■■  ■  •- 
OH™.:;™ 'rr.s  f,:: '-'  t  r  '"■ '"  *'-'"  »^"'  '»<■• 

gl'=  warm  ,e.  „,  'ho,  iLlZ"    '        ""  "  '  '"""'"■ ""' '"  •"•'■  "'"  "=".  "J 

.  f  c-r::ro;:::rr„H?rr;i tf,  "■"  °"  *™  -^  ■"*  -  %  - 

Fir  of  b,l,o.   ,„  «    h    ,  1  tt'"/  "'°""'  f  "'=  "  ">■""  ""  f'P'  ■"<>  • 

—'"in-:?- »'  ~- » =p^-  .rs;  :*  r.:tr 


I- I! 


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% 


■ffiiS,  , ,'   ,-L; 


Antidotes  for  PoisoN.-Soda,  salt,  vinegar,  chalk,  raw  eggs,  mustard,  sweet  oH, 
.oap,  and  milk,  are  powerful  remedies  for  poisons,  and  are  in  every  house.  Send  for  a 
aoctor,  but  do  not  wait  for  doctor  or  druggist:  go  to  tvork.  If  the  poison  is  an 
alkali,  vmegar  is  a  remedy.  Freely  drinking  of  new  milk,  continuing  to  drink  even 
when  the  stomach  returns  the  milk,  will  destroy  even  arsenic  poisoning. 

If  sulphuric  or  oxalic  acid  has  been  taken,  swallow  a  quantity  of  chalk-  the 
whites  of  raw  eggs  stirred  up  and  swallowed,  taking  six,  eight  or  more  successively 
»s  fast  as  possible,  will  destroy  poisons,  as  corrosive  sublimate;  mustard,  stirred  in 
soft  water  and  freely  drunk,  will  cause  vomiting  and  destroy  poison.  Any  kind  of 
oil,  as  olive,  linseed  or  common  lard  oil,  will  also  destroy  poison. 

Phosphorus,  as  when   children  suck  matches,  give  a  tablespoon ful  of  magnesia 

and  then  freely  gum  arable  water;  less  magnesia  if  only  a  little  phosphorus  is  taken 

Opium,  as  laudanum  poisoning,  needs  a  strong  emetic ;  a  tablespoonful  ,  f  mustard 

m  a  glass  of  warm  water,  or  a  half  teaspoonful  of  powdered  alum  in  as  little  water 

or  coffee  as  will  carry  it  down,  and  repeat  the  dose. 

Strychnine  also  demands  very  quick  emetic,  as  above,  or  a  heavy  dose  of  ipecac 
Opium  poison  needs  also  friction,  fanning,  shaking,  cold  water  on  thq  head,  and  all 
efforts  to  arouse  the  patient. 

Nitrate  of  Silver  needs  warm  salt  water  until  a  free  vomit. 
Ammonia  taken  raw  by  accident:  give  new  milk,  olive  oil,  ice  in  bits,  bind  icp 
on  'he  throat. 

Sugar  of  Lead  needs  lemon  juice,  vinegar,  raw  tomatoes,  and  finally  a  gcd  dose 
of  Epsom  salts. 

Prussic  acid,  or  fruit-stone  poisoning,  demands  a  good  emetic,  and  administer 
freely  ammonia  and  water. 

Antimony  is  corrected  by  very  strong  green  tea,  and  alum  water. 

After  all  these  remedies,  empty  the  stomach  by  a  clear,  warm  water  emetic,  and 
keep  the  patient  in  bed  on  a  raw-egg  diet  for  thirty  hours. 

A   WORD   ON   SEWERS. 
Sewers  are  our  most  dangerous  conveniences.     They  breed  diph- 
theria,   fevers   and   eruptive   diseases.      Typhoid,  and    typhus,    and 
yellow  fever  are  the  children  of  defective  sewage.     Sewers  are,  as 
yet,  never   absolutely  well   constructed;    they  are  never  in  perfect 
order.     If  our  own  sewers  are  not  dealing  us  out  death,  we  may  be 
sure  that  our  neighbors'  are  bestowing  ruin  upon  us;  and  even  when 
we  fancy  all  i?  right,  before  the  sentinels  of  nose  and  palate  give  a 
warning  of  poison,  our  atmosphere  is  loaded  with  spores  of  disease. 
What  shall  we  do  with  our  sewers  ?    Oh,  trap  the  pipes?     Well,  the 
traps  are  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  defective  or  out  of  order,  and  while 
the  one  set  of  pipes  are  trapped,  the  overflow  pipe  is  not  trapped, 
and  who  has  given  gas  an  injunction  not  to  rise  up  through  the  over- 
flow pipe?    Lie  awake  some  night  and  listen,  and  a  whistle  like  the 


eggs,  musfard,  sweet  oH, 
1  every  house.  Send  for  a 
i.  If  the  poison  is  an 
continuing  to  drink  even 
ic  poisoning. 
I  quantity  of  chalk;  the 
jht  or  more  successively 
afe;  mustard,  stirred  in 
)y  poison.  Any  kind  of 
oison. 

jlespoonful  of  magnesia 
;tle  phosphorus  is  taken, 
ablespoouful  (f  mustard 
d  alum  in  as  little  water 

a  heavy  dose  of  ipecac, 
ter  on  th?  head,  and  all 


oil,  ice  in  bits,  bind  ice 

and  finally  a  gc  -id  dose 

emetic,  and  administer 

water. 

arm  water  emetic,  and 


They  breed  diph- 
and    typhus,   and 
e.     Sewers  are,  as 
;  never  in  perfect 
:  death,  we  may  be 
IS ;  and  even  when 
and  palate  give  a 
spores  of  disease, 
pipes?     Well,  the 
f  order,  and  while 
3e  is  no/  trapped, 
through  the  over- 
a  whistle  like  the 


VALUABLE  HOME  KNOWLEDGE  K>f, 

ow  h,ss  of  a  springing  snake  warns  ,„„  ,ha,  sewer-gos  is  ignoring  the 
.ra,>s  or  ,s  arriving  .hrough  ,he  overflow  pi,..  T,«  dangl  of  sit 
-y  be  .hns  s.a.ed.  Many  of  onr  wors.  diseases  arise  fron,Z 
^^  Our  Uood  is  poisoned  by  our  inhaling  poisonous  spores. 
T  pores  co„,e  fro.  decaying  a„™a,  or  vegetable  nrai.er!  and 

•ren,  the.r  co„,pIe,e  state  contained  in  the  bath  and  clothing-wash- 
«er,  and  the  chanrber  refuse  of  persons  suffering  fron,  these  lases. 
Our  sewet,  are  constantly  filled  with  animal  and  vegetable  decav 
and  w..h  these  refuse  spores  of  disease.  On  the  .Z,  or  l^l 
generated  ,n  sewers,  these  spores  of  poison  rise  fo  penneate  „ 
dwelltngs.  Our  sewers  are  not  ventilated;  therefore  there  is  no 
escape  for  th.s  poison-burdened  air  except  into  the  houses  by  our  own 
.ouse.p,pes  the  entire  system  of  town  sewers  could  be  ventilated 

by  ,„ean,  of  tall  chimneys  connected  with  furnaces  and  factories,  the 
dangers  of  our  sewer,  would  be  greatly  lessened,  but  these  spores 
would  stdl  fall  or  light  „W„„,  therefore  the  ventilating  c  i    ne" 
should  be  provtded    mid-way  with    .ome  apparatus  which   wo,  Id 
hemtcally  destroy  the  spores.     No.  only  are  sewers  nnvent.lated,  but 
they    re  subject  to  back  or  tide  water,  rising  up  along  ,he,n  and 
crowdmg  back  the  volume  of  gas  and  foul  air.  which  retreats  up  n 
he  houses.     The  device  for  preventing  the  re-arising  of  s^^.J^ 
th  ough  the  p,pes  has  been  a  trap;  that  is,  a  portion  of  the  pipe  J2 
holds  water  rom  half  an  inch  to  several  inches  depth,  throu  h  w 
..  .s  supposed  that  gas  will  not  rise.     But  from  these  traps  the  water 

wate.-  downward  is  so  great  that  it  su,,.  o,.,  the  trap,  or  the  trap  may 
be  stphoned,"  as  is  betokened  by  a  roaring  sound  in  the  dis- 
appearing  water. 

Great  storms,  heavy  rainfall,  high  tides,  all  press  immense  volumes 
of  foul,  death-dealing  gas  back  on  our  dwellings,  and  our  sole 
defence  is  a  poor  weak  little  trap  of  perhaps  an  inch  depth,  and 
subject   to   a  dozen   disasters.      At    sea  one   says   with   solemnity. 

Ihere  .s  but  a  plank  between  me  and  death;"  but  one  sits  and 
eats  h,s  dmner  contentedly  when  there  is  but  one  inch  of  water 
between  his  whole  household  and  death.     Traj>s  are  also  placed  in 


t    I 


it:. 


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the  s  reet  ^nlets  These,  when  deep  and  strong,  offer  resistance  in 
such  fashion,  that  the  gas  will  run  up  into  the  houses  with  their  weak 
traps  before  getting  into  the  open  air  of  the  streets.  Another  trouble 
IS,  that  terra-cotta  sewer-pipes  are  laid  without  being  cemented 
together,  and  that  builders,  to  save  expense,  put  in  very  small,  weak 
traps,  and  leave  out  the  water-closet  traps  into  the  sewer  in  spite  of 
the  ordinance  of  prohibition.  When  you  hear  pipes  and  vents 
buhbkns,  know  that  death  is  abroad.  Let  it  rouse  you  like  a  tocsin 
for  you  have  a  worse  than  material  enemy  to  fight.  ' 

1.  Use  for  your  basins  and  tubs  frequently  a  strong  solution  of  lye 
or  caustic  soda  to  cleanse  pipes  and  traps. 

2.  Keep  the  window  in  the  bath-closet  open  two  inches  at  top  and 
bottom,  and  the  ,oor  closed.  See  that  the  door  fits  tightly  and  has 
the  cracks  covered  with  strips  of  felt. 

3-  Morning  and  night  run  clear  water  into  the  basins  to  fill  the 
trap. 

4.  Put  the  plug  in  the  basin  and  half  fill  it  when  leaving  it 

5-   Make  a  plaster  of  four-double  wet   paper,  and  stop  over  the 

overflow  holes.     Be  careful  to  do  this  every  night 
In  villages  and  in  the  country  people  having  an  out-of-door  water- 

closet  should  be  sure  to  have— 

1.  A  deep  well-bricked  vault. 

2.  A  wooden  pipe  or  chimney  three  by  four  inches  in  diameter, 
reaching  from  the  vault  through  the  roof  of  the  closet,  and  high 
enough  to  carry  gas  away  from  the  house. 

3-  Take  heed  that  this  pipe  is  not  near  or  level  with  your  bed- 
room  windows.  ' 

4.  Have  well-fitted  covers  to  the  closet  seats;  a  window  in  each 
kelplut'  "''  '"'''  "'  '  ""■'^''  °"  '''  ^°°^  ^°  "^^^  •'  *''^ 

Ren.c.nber  that  a  drain  where  wash-water  and  bath-water  are 
t  uown  >s  .anscrous,  being  ful,  of  decaying  animal  matter.     Cleanse 

l:  the  ;::i^'^-^  -^  ^'^'^^'  -' '--  ^  ^-"-  -••  -^  -pty  f. 

Kemember  that  the  drain-pipe  from  your  dish-water  sink  u  very 


er  resistance  in 
with  their  weak 
Another  trouble 
)eing  cemented 
cry  small,  weak 
ewer  in  spite  of 
ipes  and  vents 
)u  like  a  tocsin, 

solution  of  lye 

ches  at  top  and 
tightly  and  has 

sins  to  fill  the 

'ing  it. 

stop  over  the 

of-door  water- 


VALUABLE  HOME  KNOWLEDGE. 


673 


dangerous,  as  holding  decaying  animal  and  vegetable  matter  Let  it 
carry  off  its  water  from  the  house  and  cleanse  it  daily  weekly 
using  lye  or  strong  potash  water.  ^ 


Here  ended  the  collections  from  her  journals  and  various  papers 
made  at  our  earnest  request,  by  our  Town  and  Family  Oracle  We 
have  given  them  with  little  alteration  as  a  thinking  woman's  view,  of 
that  which  IS  woman's  widest  kingdom  and  her  highest  sphere. 

The  Editor— ]vLiK  McNair  Wright. 


'  in  diameter, 
set,  and  high 

ith  your  bed- 

idow  in  each 
so  that  it  will 

Uh-watcr  are 
ter.  Cleanse 
ind  empty  far 


sink  is 


very 


'  fjf*^ 


INDEX. 


A.  PACK 

Accidents,  how  to  meet 217 

"         not  to  be  punished 100 

Accounts,  how  to  keep 397 

Affection,  in  family 382 

Agur's  Prayer 388 

Ammonia,  uses  of 85 

Apples,  how  to  hake 145 

Architects,  of  the  future 286 

"  Jewish 499 

Art,  study  of 33 

Aunts,  maiden 374 

Aunt  Sophronia 1 1 

Atoms,  of  disease 126,  127 

Attics,  care  of. 1 23 

B. 

Babes,  food  for 94,  133 

"       toys  for 133 

"       first  training 94 

"       "  Cross  on  Monday  " 356 

Baliy-carts,  dangers  of 92 

Baths 136 

Beauty,  a  gift  of  God 112 

"       how  to  create 112 

"       in  the  family 112 

"      cash  value  of. 155 


"       in  dre-.s . 


43» 

Beautifying  a  window 168 

Bed  rooms,  Norman 506 

"           location 517 

Beds,  care  of , |,» 

Beef,  how  not  to  cook 421 

"     best  way  to  roast 147 

Bible  religion 243 

...  .,,,-.,^5^  jjj , , , ,  1^7 

Birthdays,  how  to  keep 379 

Blood-vessfl,  cisttinj  a 32a 

(574) 


tAoa 

Books lyi 

"     where  to  have 206,  208 

"     for  children 197 

"     and  criminals 216 

Boys,  in  the  street 283 

"     playmates 289 

"     tools 115 

"     work 180 

Bread,  for  breakfast 67 

"       sauce 67 

Brooms,  how  to  take  care  of. 455 

Burns,  magic  cure  foi-   225 

Butter  and  milk,  to  keep 82 

Building  a  house 516 

Botanical  knowledge 28 

C. 

Cake,  cream 359 

Calico,  dare  to  wear 59 

Capital  on  which  to  marry 16,  20 

Carpets,  care  of 354 

"        buying '. 463 

Celibacy,  when  a  virtue 23 

Cellars 134 

Celtic  Homes 496 

Celts,  habits  of 497 

"      character  of 495 

Centre-piece,  for  table 159 

Chair,  how  to  make 464 

Charity,  p.nyment  of 73 

"       to  gain  time  for 48 

Cheese  and  parsley 66 

Choking,  a  remedy 234 

Children,  overwork 93 

"        and  company 32a 

•■        mischicvriu^ness iSS 

"        in  the  family 362,87 

•*        manncrs....323,  97,  450,  378 


•l^^i 


INDEX. 


fAoa 

«7« 

206,  208 

197 

216 

283 

289 

I'S 

i8o 

67 

67 

;afeof. 4SS 

225 

ep 82 

516 

28 

3S9 

59 

any 16,  30 

3S4 

•••'• 463 

e 23 

124 

496 

497 

495 

«59 

464 

73 

>r 48 

66 

234 

93 

y 322 

iess iSS 

' 362.87 

323.  97.  450.  37* 


PAGR 
194 


cliickens  buying  papers 

Chimneys,  how  to  build r^g 

Christian  home ^ 

Christmas,  keeping .jj 

Cicero's  precept  as  to  money 3^9 

Cisterns,  with  filter ,,,  r^u 

Civility  ... 

ciosetl :::::::;:::::;::::.  fis 

Clothes,  old 


575 

E. 

Earnings  and  Savings *|" 

Ear-rincs 

"-^r^y---; 63,65,390 

and  young  couples 28 

in  the  old  world 

Education,  as  cowards 


74 
236 

among  Saxons ^q^ 

Egg,  how  to  poach 


"         "'ashing....  .,  J  Emergences,  how  to  meet ., 

"         to  prepare  for  wash.  \ '. '.  \  p'"*-'''^""  °"  «""''  "''^""<-'f^ 308 

Coal  oil,  care  of. „^  I^ngagements,  length  of. 3, 

r„fr„..  „.-!  ■  ^^"  Etiquette,  hnnl,-.;  r,n 


Coffee,  making 
Color,  in  dress., 
Comfort,  an  aim 

Convers.ation,  manners  in.  .312,  483,  311 

Cooking  for  sick '  ,   . 

utensils  of  the  Romans...  49, 

Croup,  to  prevent ,g" 

"      to  cure..  .  . 
Crimes  and  errors 


74 
434 

165 


quette,  hooks  on. 


Eveni 


ng  reading ^oS 

est 


Evil 


reading. 


142 
9S 


Example,  force  of 

Exercise 

Extravagance 

"  portrait  of. , 

Eyes,  care  of . . . . 


182 

....   215 

....   2S7 

••••   «3S 

•365,  395 
....  396 

162 


D. 


93 

368 

•25.  389.399 


Daughters,,carps  of  eldest 

"  in-law 

licbts * 

Drowning  in  a  well 

Decision,  with  servants.  .. 

Ukkens'  fust  love 

I*inner-tal)l 

"      party 

Dinners  without  wines  . 
Discouraging  a  man. 
Disease,  taken  in  lime., 
"        of  house-plants 

result  of  carelessne.ss iig 

Diseases,  cau.es  of  nervous qo 

Disorder ,,'    '„     ^ 

r.         ...  •• 37.40,   46 

iJog-hite,  remedy  for jjjl 

Drainage  and  ventilation 
Dress,  rules  for 

I      ""'"''^"l"'....."."." 4,7.4,6 

''""<^^»ty ^j_^ 

"      of  Romans 

"      for  large  and  small  people..  .   434 

"      hints  on 

I>r««nB  the  hair '.'.■!.■  .^Vj.  4,9 


F. 


23 » 

216 


Falls,  accidents  hy 
Family  hook-fund. 

"       book-keeping ,„_ 

Farmers  and  newspapers 

223  j  Farmhouse,  order  in 

4S4  "  meals  in 

196    Farm. lands,  more  productive 

"-  "^"•^'"'^"" '59  I  Fashion  and  common-sense! 

"       for  children 

Feet,  care  of, 


474 
477 
467 
141 
479 


125 

434 


. ...    193 
....     52 

321 

....   152 

....  417 

. ..  427 

426,  134 


Filter,  how  to  make  a '  .,5 

Fire,  acci.Ients  by "'„,/; 


226 
230 


"     fighting  a 

fires,  guardmg  against ,,§ 

Fire-places,  value  of 

Fire-screens,  h.indsome 

Fish,  how  to  serve 

Flannel,  use  of 

Food  and  sleep 

"     for  invalids ,_  _ 

"     for  young  children  

"     in  p.-"rir.f-;ha!  times 

Foreign  housekeeping 

Foresight  in  housekeeping  .,!.'. 
French  coffee 


«38 
169 
476 
120 
345 
»44 
'32 
488 

75 

47a 

75 


:  ■ 


676 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

Fretting ,33 

Friendship  in  home 2S3 

of  men  and  women. 301,  310 

Frizzes  for  the  hair 418 

Fruit,  how  to  frost  for  dessert 359 

Fuel,  saving  in yg 

Furnaces ,  j  _ 

Furniture,  early  English 509 

"         how  to  buy i(5j 

"         for  a  sick-room 13S 

harmony  in ^gj 

making  one's  own 464 

rustic £21 

G. 

Gardens  and  arranging  them 521 

Garrets,  how  to  care  for 123 

Germs  of  disease 12c 

Glass  in  the  eye,  rem-dy  for 231 

"      paper  for  polishing 349 

Gowns,  to  make  over 5- 

Guthrie,  Dr.,  on  Manners 313 

"  "      "    Book  of  Proverbs.  213 

H. 


■< 

u 
tt 


Honesty,  and  eye  service 449 

"       varieties  in 40 

Hospitality,  a  duty 269 

"  in  the  home 262 

"  Biblical  instances  of. ..    269 

"  varieties  in 262,268 

"  remark.ible  case  of.275,  27J 

"  among  the  Afgh.ins  ...   2S1 

"    poor... 273,  276 

Hour-glass  stand,  how  to  make 464 

Housc-cleaning,  how  to  do 31 

Housekeeping,  a  fine  art 26 

"  every  girl's  trade 190 

"  and  scholarbhip 27 

"  value  of  knowledge  of    26 

House-plants,  care  of. 4-9 

House-work,  how  to  make  easy 38 

"  how  to  systematize  ..  .     53 

Houses,  to  make  healthful 128 

Hugh  Miller's  first  library ig6 


214 


Hair-dressing 4,3,  4,9 

Ham,  ornamenting  a \(^ 

Hanging-lamp,  novel  use  of. 159 

Hard  times,  how  to  meet 58 

Head,  needs  a  screen 426 

Health,  before  carpets 121 

"        in  children 129 

"    essential  to  happiness  in  home     23 

-lo'idays 184 

"         among  Romans 494 

Home,  a  centre  of  activity 176 

"       decorations  for j  70 

"       manners 128 

"       festivals v,a 

its  cash  basis igg 

making,  capacity  for 30 

books iQ2 

its  corner-stone 20 

"       and  lervants 498 

"      made  happy jgj 

"        "      hateful... 29 

Honesty,  ill  dicss 417 

••      in  children 104 


Icelanders'  love  of  books 

Idea,  people  of  one ^.x 

Ideal  of  a  home *. .. .   257 

Immortality  of  the  home 51  j 

61 
171 


II 
II 
II 
II 


Income,  how  to  meet  a  reduced 
Industry  at  home 

"        made  to  pay i^g 

Indian  wigwams r  ,0 

Infection,  to  escape 1  jg 

Indolence,  a  cause  of  disease 1S5 

Insanity,  its  causes ^32 

Iron  utensils,  how  to  clean 150 

J. 

Jenn  Ingelow  on  Unity jgo 

Jouberl's  precept  on  Money 389 

"  Jumping  in  a  bucket " ya 

K. 

Kettles,  removing  iron  taste  of.. , . .  556 

Kitchen,  made  beautiful 166 

"        conveniences  in 450 

"        furniture  of 462 

"        economizing  in 49 

Kindling-wood 227 

Knives,  to  clean 347 


PAGB 

service 445 

in 40 

■ 269 

home 262 

il  instances  of. . .   269 

<-'s  in 262,  268 

<al)le  case  of.275,  ^Tl 

the  Afghans  . .  .  281 

"    poor  .  .  .273,  276 

low  to  make. . . .  464 

w  to  do -3  1 

le  art og 

•  girl's  trade 190 

cholarsliip 27 

of  knowledge  of    26 

°^- 479 

o  make  easy. ...     38 

o  systematize.. .     53 

lalthful 128 

liljrary Ig6 

I. 

books 2 14 

Zl 

*••••  257 

'""ne 513 

■t  a  reduced 61 

■•   171 

f. 178 

S'o 

>J8 

f  disease 1S5 

332 

clean ^50 

• 

'y 380 

Money 380 

='" 72 

n  taste  of. ... .  556 

ful 166 

9  in 450 

462 

in 49 

337 

347 


f^DEX. 


L.  677 

Labor,  change  of,  a  rest..  'T  f  M    ,       • 

Lace  and  embroidery   ,0  vV  i ^    ,         '  ^"^  ^™^  f°r  ■  •  •  • 

Lace  curtains,  to  do  u  '  '' ^5     Meat,  salad  of. 3^=3 

1 -ICT    I  "  < 147 


'o  preserve. 

a  dressing  for  cold. 


Si 


Late  suppers -557 

Laying  up  money        '^^'^  ,  o --  ^...^ 

Legs,  crooke,lncss  of'  i„  "dn-'l ", ^^^     !!'"'°'"''  *'"*^'" '.' f^ 

Liberality  pnys  wen  '"••    '-^^     Medicine "4 

Life,  how  shortened.'." ." ' "^"^     ^^'^^hod.  of  work ] " ' "_ ';J' 

Lightness  in  dress      "^          "       "  '''^'igious  training \^^ 

Literature  in  the  home.'.".' ^f  Ur  !',     ^''""■'^<^''^.  of  ftnanciedng  1c' 

"         "eating  a  taste VoV '92     Mistakes  of  p.^.-ents "^  '5 

nf  .• ^1  *^''^  '^°^ '98     Mistresses  and  mai.ls       ^^ 

3'M  "         over-pa.,icui;;.;'. ^J^^ 

Y-^:z:zz:ZT'-  ir°::^'-'^^!^-'-'ii^::::::::::  'i 

330 


of  impudence 
Longevity 

Lord  Bacon's  precept 


Love  of  money  '^^^ 

"    in  the  home.".".';.' ^^^ 

Love-story,  a  little  '° 

Luncheon,  how  to  prepare '*'*' 

i^ye-w.ater,  its  use... 


young  gill 
<i      it 

nur'ie  ,  .  . . 

Modesty,  in  dress. 


472 
127 


M 


manners. 


1S9 

423 
330 


oney,  n  means,  not  an  end  .  "  ,sr, 

"       ils  abuse...  ^^'^ 


M. 


Macaroni,  mock 

Mad-dog,  escape  trom 

Maiden  aunts. .  ^^^ 


value. 


68 


Makiii 


S,'-over  dresses. 


374 
(>5 


Mammon-worship.Ksn/eaniies;:.'.     40, 
Man  and  wife,  unity  of. '  1?^ 


Man 


Alanii 


agenient,  good  , 


er-S  at  meals. 


j6l 
460 
321 


C",t.v.„ecnildren's..,97.;,, 
of  young  people....  ^,^ 

[         to  servants  and  children.  3,4 
-merson  on ,„^ 

ndv.cetoaboyon..  ^.^ 

;;        ''oyishat,.-,ckso^r,ad....'  309 
oooks  on .  ^ 

Marriage  eng.igements  .'.'.".'.".".■.■■.■■  ^!, 

among  S.axons...      '' 

"        *»'''«l'lengc  for... !.'."""       ^ 

of  widowers 

impediments  to'.','.'.'.','.' "2,^2"^ 

wrong  motives  for..!.'  ^ 

without  money 

"  girl's  best  nnHi;,n  fi-.r" 


404 

three  precepts  on ." ' '     g^ 

how  to  obtain  •  •  J  J 

"     ..  ,,ive    , ^5* 

••     "Z. ''"'^^'-^^ 

"  "^p-"-''"^''::::'ioa 

a  home-builder ao(, 

should  be  earned    

"       advice  to  a  boy  on! 
Morals  and  religion... 
'Morning,  reading  in 

Mothers'  care  for  child're.","  " 
Moll 


'iprs-in-law. 


407 

409 

23S 

208 

94 


Masters  and 


Match 


employes,  rights  of., 


es,  careless  use  of. 


Matting,  for  bed 
«7 


rooms. 


•     24 

25 

^<  55  i  N'apki 

60 

229 

133] 


Molhcrs'  meeting!!."!!!.'!!! ^^^ 

their  need  of  re.ading!'"   ill 

contmriing  power  of...       " 
their  w(,rtli....  ^t 

"     step..  ;,■ 336 

„,  ■  ■■ 372.  374.  375 

old  age  of.  .  „„        ■■ 

Music  in  home  ^'°' ^^i 

"  "'"lyof.. ..!!!!! '^^'^ 

Mortgages ...  •'•' 

404 


N. 


^•••pkms,  bow  to  make  pretty 
Nation,  its  wealth 

Natural  history,  love  of 

Natural  objects  in  a  home!."" 


fi 


lif 


678 


INDEX. 


I. 


Need  and  pride 62 

Newspapers 114 

"           value  of 192 

Normans,  customs  of . .  507 

"        bouses  of 505 

Nurses,  duties  of 140 

"         dress  of 140 

"         English 96 

Nurse-maids 91 

"          "     what  to  require  of 94 

"    model  for 189 


Obedience,  of  children 98 

"           a  foundation  stone 1 17 

Occupation,  of  patriarchs 487 

"           danger  of  changing. . . ,  398 

OflTflrs  of  marriage 12 

Oil-cloth,  how  to  clean 347 

Old  clothes 518 

Old-fashioned  courtesies 323 

Order,  in  individuals 51 

"       "   Home 32 

"       "   farmhouse ..  52 

"       "    a  great  time-saver.  ....  36 

Ornament,  for  centre  of  table 159 

Ornaments,  for  country  home 151 

Oriental  fashions 420 

"        hospitality 48S 

Outlays,  how  to  govern 59 

P. 

Pninted-glass 169 

Panlrics,  neatness  in 82 

Piper  carpets,  to  make 465 

Paper,  for  cleaning 349 

Parents,  mistakes  of 87 

"         responsibility  of 381 

"         cares  of 286 

"        vigilance  of 259 

Parlor 162,  124 

"     its  origin S°^ 

Patience,  )iow  to  teach 89 

Pitrinrchal  life 485 

Pi'nurinusness 300 

Physitnl  culture 1 19 

Piety  .-liiii  pauperism 247 

Flan,  how  to  work 40 


rAGk 

Plato 512 

Playthings,  improper 467,  468 

Poisons,  in  cloth  dyes 235 

"        and  antidotes 235 

Politeness,  to  mothers 324 

"          French. 313 

"          to  servants 450 

"          life's  small  change 314 

Potatoes,  how  to  cook 476 

Pot-closets 127 

Pots,  shells  for  cleaning 348 

Pounds  and  pence 56 

Poverty  and  extravagance 388 

Power,  of  beauty 168 

Praise,  an  incentive 453 

Prejudice,  against  step-mothers 377 

Presence  of  mind 217 

."         "      "     in  a  child 221 

"         "       "     how  to  cultivate.  .  237 

"         "      "  Dr.  John  Brown  on.  218 

Preserving  clean  speech loi 

Pride,  a  master 62 

Princesses  as  cooks 488 

Progress,  to  Heaven 366 

Prudence 393 

Property,  four  rules  for  getting 392 

Punctuality 468 

Q. 

Quail,  broiled 537 

Queen's  toast 542 

Quiet,  to  cultivate 89 

"      for  children 90 

R 

Rags,  in  kitcnen 127 

"     uses  of 518 

Reading  aloud 481 

••         of  novels 2or 

<•         its  advantages 207 

"         for  Sabbath 204 

Rend,  how  to 210,  213 

"      when  to 205,  207 

"      what  to I99t  201 

Heading,  how  to  procure 194 

"         for  children 197. '98 

.-vcuuiti^,  niipr"j-?r -"j,  -"-J 

Reason,  in  dress 4'^ 


512 

467.468 

23s 

235 

324 

313 

450 

change 314 

476 

127 

g 348 

S6 

ince 388 

168 

453 

-mothers 377 

217 

chilli 221 

to  cultivate.  .  237 

)hn  Brown  on.  218 

;h loi 

62 

488 

366 

393 

r  getting.....  392 
468 

. 537 

542 

89 

90 

127 

518 

481 

20t 

ss 207 

204 

210,  213 

205,  207 

199,  201 

ire 194 

197.  '98 

,,203,205 

416 


INDEX. 


67& 


PAGE 

34« 


Reason  in  work 

Refrigerator,  a  home-made .'  "'g^ 

Regularity 

Religion  and  crime. ..... 

"     thrift \ 

"         in  the  home 

"          a  basis  of  laws. . 
Religious  insanity 


••••  53 
....  244 

....  248 
.233,249 
241 

332 

principle 20 

Remedy  for  choking 234 

"       for  dulness ,38 

Ribbons  and  jewelry 

Responsibility  of  mothers " ."  *  286 

Rest,  obtained  by  change ,. , 

Ro.isting  meat,  a  new  way  of. . .' .','  147 

Roman  dinners... 

^'''^^'y 49, 

^    "      ^°"^« 4S9 

Kooms  to  sweep. ... 

„       ,,  o53 1 

P''!'" 519.520 

"       "   furnish ' 

"     "  '^^^^iify ."  162 

"        for  servants 
Rudeness,  in  sm.ill  th 


f-P-'-'^^ 202.7;; 

.Scrapel,  to  make ^^ 

Screaming,  evil  of " "  "  J.^ 

Secret,  of  hard  times ici 

of  home  happiness ^g, 


of  success  in  housekeeping, 
between  man  and  wife .  .  . 


"      a  bride's  fatal 

"      purchases 

"      of  a  criminal 

"      in  the  family -,(J. 

Seamstress,  wages  of 

"     views  of. .  . 


478 
361 
366 
367 
364 
.<'S 

186 

58 
29 

'03 


449 

^    ,  "igs 328 

Kules,  for  money  making ^qO 


every  woman  should  be 
Selfishness,  in  children 

in  hospitality 262 

Self-forgelting , 

Seneca  on  education 

Servants 


reading. 


210 


"       "  dressing  well ^^^ 

Rust,  to  remove 

Rustic  furniture .^i 

Reverence '  , 


Sabbath,  how  to  secure  rest ig. 

Salad,  how  to  make * '   ,  .- 

"       dressing  for "       g 

"      for  fish ■■■   ,,, 

476 

5'3 

335 

71 


^7 
64 

120 


Sauvestre  oa  the  Home.., 

Saving  of  resting   

"      aimlessly 

"      and  spending ._     'g 

"      cents 

"      time _ 

Saxon  babies 

"      cooks 

••      food [][' 

"      houses 

"      tombs 


. ..  390 
337.  305 
...  502 


501 
501 

499 
498 


Science,  cultivate  love  for igg 


214 

their  friends. .  .  ... 

,  ,  445 

.'^•'""S'^^f 439 

in  palriaichal  days jgr 

how  many  to  keep ^/. 

wages 

"        breakages 

.Shoes,  thickness  of 

Sewing,  family 

Sick,  to  visit  the.  . .  '"./:_ 

.'McUness  in  the  family ,  ,}j 

.Sick-room '    ",Vb'    . 

,,  138,  140 

"    note-book ,   . 

Silk  dress,  its  cost /  a. 

Silver,  care  of 

Sinks,  care  of 

Sisters,  politeness  to 

[  Situ,ition  for  a  house 

Sleep,  a  restorer 

"      of  children 

Sleeplessness,  cure  of 

Social  culture 

Soup  relish 

Sports,  for  boys  and  girls 

Slate  and  religion 

-Step  mother's  position 

Study,  for  a  yuuiig  wife 

for  Saturday  evening. . . 
"      of  music  and  art 


61 

•  350 
.  186 

•  324 
S16 
344 
131 
14M 
327 

66 
'36 
339 
374 

34 
206 

33 


L'.ffrfif'i ! 


.k{^  . 


iiiki  It  f_fti 


580 


INDEX. 


PAGB 

Study,  what  we  should 21k,  32 

Sugar,  how  to  save 457 

Summer,  diseases  of 02 

Sumptuary  laws 4^1 

Sunshine,  a  health-keeper 121 

Suiistrol<e,  remedy  for 232 

Sympathy  for  infirmity 326,  379 

System  in  reading 207 


•w. 


PAcn 

59 


Wages 

Walking-dresses 423 

Wall-papers 520 

Walls,  color  of r\n 


smoke-stained. 


Table  cloths,  to  take  care  of 160 

"  "       how  to  iron 160,475 

Table,  how  to  arrange 160 

"       set  for  a  party 475 

"       how  to  clear  off 351 

Teasing  by  children 106 

Telling  a  story  well 482 

Tent  life ^g^ 

Terror,  how  to  overcome 05 

Time,  how  to  make 36 

Tluimb  cut  off 224 

Toilette  table,  to  make  a 464 

Training  of  servants 430 

"        of  boys 31C 

"        children §7 

Travelling  and  religion 256 

Trimming  dishes 160 

Trusting  servants 440 

Truth  in  childhood 98,  102 

Trains  on  dresses 42-j 

Tins,  how  to  clean 349 

u. 

Unbelief 238 

Underclothes 426 

"  for  day  and  night. .    ..  131 

Unity  in  the  home 360 

Untidiness 425 

Use  of  money 385 

"    "  cold  meat 471 

"    "  P^P" ■ 349 

"    "  sal-soda 125 

"    "  a  pan  of  bread  sponge 358 

V. 

Ventilation  and  drainage 125 

Vigor,  rises  from  labor 185 

Virtue,  of  reverence 316 

Virtues,  for  the  home i;22.  ?12 

"       queen  of  social 262 


5S7 

Washing  clothes 355 

"        red  table  linen 358 

"        lace  and  embroidery 45 

"        lace  curtains 358 

"        dishes jrj 

Water  pipes cig 


36 


274 

392 
392 

52 

361 
367 


Wedding  gift,  a 

Welsh  Eistcddfodds 214 

Western  cabins t\Q 

"       settlers . . . 

Wealth 

"      Astor's 

Wife,  a  model 

"      ignorance  of, 
"      deceit  of. .  , . 

"      endowment  of 36c 

Window,  to  beautify  a 168 

"        curtains,  to  make 465 

"        gardening 48 

"        trimming igo 

Winter,  its  ornaments 158 

Woman,  a  helpmeet 364 

"        her  extravagance 364 

"        her  friendships 301 

"       as  lecturers 14 

"       overworked 338 

"       wearing  out  vitality  of.. . ..  344 

Work,  a  blessing ^•54 

"      when  injurious 181 

"       a  duty ,72 

"       how  to  do  it xxi 

"       for  one  day 40 

"       not  an  end 181 

Working  people rg 

Work  without  system 182 


Worldliness. 


253 


Y. 


Yearly  holidays 380 

Youth,  their  companions 290 


"      its  duties. 


2,11 


Young  wornpn'a  work 40 

Youth,  love  of  beauty  in , .   153 


PAGS 

59 

423 

520 

519 

SS7 

355 

" 358 

roidery 45 

358 

351 

519 

36 

214 

S'o 

274 

392 

392 

52 

361 

367 

365 

168 

jke 465 

4» 

169 

158 

3^4 

:e 364 

301 

14 

338 

ilityof.....  344 

334 

181 

172 

335 

40 

181 

58 

183 

253 

380 

290 

333 

40 

'53 


I^DEX. 


681 


SUPPLEMENTAL  INDEX 

To  Chaper  on  ^^  Valuable  Home  KKowledge: 


Apple 


PAGB 

549 

547 

548 

546 

P"'^'^'"g S4S 


custard. . . 
Jonathan . 
meringue . 
pot-pie . . . 


543 

542 
548 


Barley  and  its  uses . 
"      gruel . 


B. 


"       short  cake 

Apples  and  bacon 

"      in  batter 

Ashes,  best  use  for  coal rrg 

Aster  House  rolls  , 

542 

S40 

554  I 

sugar ^^^ 

Beans,  common  White                    "  , 
Beefloaf ."; ^^^ 

"    steak  gulled.'.*.'.'.'.'.*'. ^^^ 

••       "     stewed,  Miss  Do'd's'." .'.'.'.'  543 

tea,  how  to  prepare c-. 

Beef,  stuffed  corned ] "  "  * 

"    to  make  tough,  tender .'.".' '."".""  r^q 

Begonias,  slugs  on '  ^g 

Blankets,  how  to  dry. .         \X 

Bleedi"-"*  •>-- -  "^ 


Cakes,  ginger  crackers . .  '*"? 

"       gold '.".'.'."."" 

"       hickory  nut '.*.[ ^'^ 

"      ice-cream..., ^'^ 

"  j^""yLind.. ..!.*;;;;;;;;;  ^jj 

"       matrimonies  ..  •"•545 


molasses  doughnuts, 
measure 


M 


S4S 
545 
544 


rs.  Holmes' liberty r.. 

pork **  ^^^ 


pound  cake, 
puir 


544 
544 
544 


puffs,  Chicago...  iZ 

<->erman 


queen's 

Shrewsbury. . . 

sponge 

sweet  crackers  , 

silver 

tout  fait. . 


548 
545 
544 
544 

546 
544 


white  fruit...         


wafers, 
widow's. 


545 
546 


ng  at  the  nose  to  stop. . . ."  rgs    ^'""'^  '''/'  cuUure  of ^f^ 

Boils  and  burns,  poultices  for.        ' "  r6q    Calicoes,  washing     ^  ' 

""-'   *■ -  -  •  ■  ■  "  ■  '      '  Candy,  how  to  make'.'. ' '  V  "f 


55' 

553 


Bread,  how  to  make  excellent 

"       brown., 

"       pudding 

Breakfast,  a  dish  for. .'.'.'.' ,' ^'^^ 

Brushes,  to  wash  hair. ."  .".'*.'" „^ 

Butler  sauce " 

Butterscotch.  ^^' 

555 

Cabbage,  cooking 

Cakes,  apple  short  ^^'^ 

black  fruit..'. ^'^f 


clove. 


546, 


chocolate  marble.      .tt , 

fruit ;••  5^5j 

feather.... "  = ' " " "  •^^■^' S45  I 

544 

gmgerbread,  thin 3^ 


caramels 

"       chocolate 

"      cocoanut 

balls!.'!.'.* 
fruit,  a  delicious... 

"      molasses 

"      peanut 

"       sugar 

Candied  fruits 

Carrots  for  dinner ',*.'.". 

Chamomile,  value  of. .'.".'.'.'.". „g 

Chapped  hands "_"  \ l^ 

Chicken  dressed  as  terrapin! ! !!! ! ! '.  53^ 
panada ' 

p..,,,.      P'"''''"S 536 

Chilblains,  remedy  for ,L 


555.  556 
555 
556 

S5S 

555 

555 

555 

555 

555 

556 


683 


INDEX. 


Chocolate,  preparation  of. 542 

"         marble  cake 545 

Cleaning,  geniiral  recipes  for 556 

Cloth,  to  clean  black 558 

Clothes,  to  restore  color  to  white.. ,  558 

Nothing,  preserving  color  of 558 

Coffee,  how  to  make 552 

Cough  remedies 569 

Crackers,  sweec  and  ginger 546 

Cream  of  tartar  drink 554 

Croquettes 543 

Cucumbers,  treatment  of. 541 

Curry..., 535 


Diphtheria,  treatment  of, , .  566 

Dish- washing,  directions  for. 557 

Dog-bite,  treatment  of 568 

Diawn  butter 550 

Dried  beef  gravy 550 

Drowning,  suffocation  by 569 

Duck,  salmi  of  wild 537 

Dyspepsia,  raw  eggs  for 554 

Dumplings,  marrow . . . . , 543 

E. 

Earache,  remedy  for 567 

^gg  cream 553 

"    plant,  squash,  spinach  to  cook.  540 

Eggs  au  gr,itin 542 

"     baked 543 

"    scalloped 542 

"     scrambled 543 

Embroidery,  setting  the  color  of. ...  556 

Excellent  cakes 544,  545 

Eye,  neuralg.a  of 566 


.  Face,  eruptions  on  the 566 

Fainting,  treatment  of 569 

Fish-balls,  Boston 538 

"    cod,  roasted 537 

"    trout,  boiled 537 

"    Miss  Dods'  way  of  boiling 535 

"    sauce 551 

Fowl,  boiling 536 


FAca 
Furniture,  to  remove  spots  from.. . .  558 

Frost-bites,  simple  remedy  for 567 

Felon,  cure  for 569 

Frozen  person,  care  of 569 

Frying  and  roasting 538 

G. 

Game,  broiled  quail K,y] 

"       salmi  of  wild  duck 537 

"       to  preserve  dead 560 

Glass  globes,  cleaning 556 

5S9 


"    cement  for. 


Fur.  to  clean  white . 


Flummery 548  j 


Gloves,  best  cleaner  of. 556 

Grease  spots,  to  remove 558 

Gruel,  how  to  make 553 

Glycerine,  uses  of 369 

H. 

Ham  balls , 535 

Hash,  scotch 535 

Hoarseness,  to  cure 567 

Home  amusements 561,  563 

House-plants,  care  of 561 

Household  conveniences 560 

Hysterics,  remed)  for 566 

I. 

Imprrtant  recipes 551 

Ind  gestion,  seizure  of 569 

Indigo,  recipe  for 559 

Infants,  dried  flour  for 554 

Ink  sti-iins  to  er.ase 558 

Insects,  to  destroy 558 

Invalids,  articles  suggested  for.. 553,  554 

K. 

Kettles,  removing  iron  taste  of.,  ...  556 

L. 

Lemonade,  how  to  make 553 

Lightning,  person  struck  by 569 

Laborers,  best  drink  for 568 

Lime  water  and  its  uses 559 

Linen  clothing,  preserving  color  of.   558 

M. 

Mats  for  the  table,  to  make 559 

Meat,  to  preserve e6» 

Meats,  tish  and  game 534 


<  n 


INDEX. 


FAGI 

spots  from.. ..  558 
medy  for 567 

569 

'f 569 

538 

'537 

duck 537 

;ad 560 

\ 556 

559 

f- 556 

ve 558 

553 

369 

535 

535 

567 

561,563 

561 

CCS 560 

566 

55' 

569 

559 

r 554 

558 

558 

estedfor..SS3,  554 

I  taste  of..  ...  556 

'<e 553 

ck  by 569 

>r 568 

es 559 

ving  color  of.   558 

nake 559 

, 563 

534 


Mustard,  French. 


PACB 

550 


N. 


Nose,  remedy  for  bleeding  at  the.. .  568 

O. 

Oatmeal,  the  value  and  uses  of.  i;6o 

gruel 


Sauce,  bread . 
"       butter. 


preparation -41 

Oleander  bugs '   ,£. 


554 
541 
561 


Onions,  cooking T^ 

Oysters,  fried  and  stewed * ."  538 


Paint  to  remove 
Panada 


macaroni  and  patties 538 

P. 

558 


554 


583 

PACK 

•  551 

■  551 

■  55' 

•  550 
550 
550 
55 1 
550 
549 
550 

Sewing  and  mending,  hinis'  on'.  ".563,  S! 

Silk,  to  clean  black \X 

"    how  to  wash .".'.,".".'."."  557 

Sleep,  to  insure ' " J 


Tuit-juce 

carrot 

for  roast  beef. 

favorite 

fish 

foaming 

lobster 

soyer. 

Stewards' .... 


Plants,  treatment  of  weekly 55,     Sewers,  how  to  guard  against  dangers 


care  of  house 


561 


"       soil  for  pot c6i 

"       lice,  to  destroy ^61 

Pies  and  puddinsrs..  .. 


of. 


571 


Stoves,  biacking .L 


Smok 


ing  meat,  arrangement  for. , 
Stains  in  white  goods,  to  remove, 


560 
558 


lemon,  and  raisin ^        Suffocation  by  drowning  or  hangi^".  cL 

parsniD „     Soun<:   r,if>„  u.,-j  *■    S-  i"9 


548 
549 


"    parsnip 

"    i^erfect 

Poisons,  antidotes  for .jq 

Pork,  boiled  salt 

Pone,  hotel J, 

Prune  whip " ' '  _' ^"''^ 

Puddings,  apple " '. ^^° 

"    '^--d "■■■.■.■.■548 

••••  547 
....  548 
....  548  I 
••••  547 

549 

....  549 
....  546 
....  547 
....  550 
•••  543 


« 

M 


carrot 

cheap 

cottage,  baked. 

Dorchester 

dessert 

dark  steamed . . 

plum 

snow 

sauce 

Yorkshire. . 


Soups,  calf 's-head ^^ 

"       French "J 

"   Murphy ;;;;  j^j 

"       Mr.  Gomez's  pea ci, 

534 


Scotch  broth, 
veal,  economical. 


533 


open. 


T. 


547 


Tarts 

Tablecloths,  worn-out cg^ 

Tea,  how  to  make 

Teeth,  preparation  for  the, 
Throat,  cure  of  sore. . . 


552 
558 
567 


Rice 


R. 


cream . 


boiled  properly 


553 


i^.ujji.,,^ ^ 

Relish  for  breakfast....  ""  ^T, 


Tidies,  washing -,g 

Tongue,  toast '  *   .  . 

Turkey,  ragout  of 536 

"       stewed 


543 
536 
536 


540 


Riljbons 


542 


ns  and  silk,  cleaning  of 558 

!■:•■",  a  few  .impie 506 

Kust  stains,  removing ,-g 


Vegetables,  barley 

"  bean  polenta ^4^ 

"  cabbage 

"  carrots 

"  corn,  hidjed 

"  cucumbers 


539 
539 
539 
541 


tgg-plant 340 


584 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

Vegetables,  onions ^^g 

"           potatoes  for  breakfast. .  540 

"                 "         au  cr£me 540 

"                 "         fried  sweet . . .  540 

"        rice,  to  boil  properly. . , .  540 

"        tomatoes 540 

''^oroiting,  tr«,«*ment  of  severe 566 


W. 

Walls,  smoke-stained 

Wliite  worms  in  soil 

Wounds,  treatment  of 

Writing,  to  restore  faded ** 

Y. 
Yeast,  hop 

Yorkshire  pudding. . . ,  „. .*.' * 


PAGB 

557 
561 
568 
559 

5S3 
54J 


H 

pptiaKL 

1 

r 

HI 

■■Ull  t 

-'hx. 

1 

Wr  1 
lit* 

w 

557 

568 

559 


5Sa 

543 


